


Boys Keep Swinging

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-11
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:33:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three and a half years, Justin comes home from New York for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Justin sat straight up in his seat as his flight landed, and he couldn't help the butterflies of excitement and nerves in his stomach. He felt like her was nineteen years old again, coming back from L.A. Only this time, it wasn't the west coast, and it wasn't for a movie, and it wasn't only four months. He hadn't seen Brian in about three and half years, and neither of them had much time to talk on the phone.

He shifted from foot to foot as he waited for his luggage. When it finally came, he grabbed it and hurried outside, hauling it into a taxi, practically bouncing.

"Here." He told the cab driver as they pulled in front of Brian's building. Justin paid him and hopped out, pulling out his suitcases and waving the cab away. He stepped up and fished around in his pocket, pulling out his keys. It made him smile a bit as he picked up the familiar key and slid it into the lock. He yanked open the door and rushed to the elevator.

On the way up, Justin realized that he hadn't seen Brian in so long, Brian may have changed. He might have found someone else. He might have never gone back to his old ways. He might not even be home. He might be angry that Justin was here.

"Ah, fuck it." Justin muttered to himself. If Brian wanted to be pissed, he'd deal with it. Hadn't he been doing just that for the past eight years?

The elevator reached the top floor, and Justin was staring at the door he hadn't seen in what felt like decades. In his mind's eye, he could see the layout of Brian's loft, could remember all the things that had happened to them there. He put his hand on the door and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Then he put his key in the lock and slid open the door.

He stepped inside, putting his bags down, and shut the door. Looking around, he could see that not much had changed. New furniture, of course. And beside the infamous naked guy painting, was the sketch of Brian that Justin had done in the first year they met each other, and a painting he had given Brian for his birthday two years ago. Justin stared at the sketch, remembering happy times.

A noise pulled Justin out of his reverie, and he made his way to the doorway of the bedroom. He was already smiling a bit, but then he saw Brian, on the bed, fucking some trick, and he grinned wildly. Mr. Kinney was back to his old ways, thank god. Brian opened his eyes and looked at him. Justin saw a hint of surprise which was quickly suppressed. Brian smiled at him.

"Hey, Sunshine. How's it going?" Sunshine. Justin had missed that. He grinned even more as the nickname rolled off Brian's tongue, washing over him.

Brian felt a warmth pooling in his stomach as Justin smiled at him, the bright Sunshine smile had been missing for three years. He sucked his lips in. "I guess your success is secured." He commented, nonchalant. Justin shrugged a shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess it is." He watched as Brian's eyes glazed over and suppressed a sort of giddy laugh, he knew exactly what that meant. He bent his head down and bit his lip, watching through his lashes as Brian came. It was a sight he was longing to see up close and very, very personal.

Brian leaned against the trick, panting. Justin's arrival had been a surprise, though a good one. He pulled out with a groan and tossed the condom away. He and Justin eyed each other for a moment as the trick caught his breath enough to find his clothes and pull them on. Brian padded over to the door to see the trick out. The guy nodded and stepped out. Brian slid the door shut and turned to Justin.

They stared at each other for a long time, taking in all the changes, and all the familiar little things, the old scars, tattoos, birthmarks and freckles. They looked each other up and down, though Justin was a little more successful since Brian was naked.

Then Brian raised a brow, opening his arms in question and widened his stance.

"So? Are you coming, or going? Or coming, and then going? Or coming, and staying?"

Justin recognized the words and looked at him with a little laugh; then his gaze darkened and a determined look came over his face. He pulled off the leather jacket he had been wearing and tossed it away.

With slow, deliberate steps, he came closer, eyes roaming over Brian's body. Then they were inches apart, staring into each other's eyes. This time Justin was in control. He scraped his teeth along the side of Brian's jaw.

"Staying," he whispered into Brian's ear, beginning to thread his hands into Brian's hair. But Brian took the answer as a signal to change leaders. He flipped Justin around and pushed him against the door, pulling off his t-shirt.

"I'm glad," Justin panted out as Brian tugged his jeans off. "That you're back to normal."

"Good. 'Cause that abstinence thing was torture." Justin let out a bark of laughter that was stopped short by Brian's mouth on his.

Brian ran his hand across Justin's stomach and pulled him flush against his body. With a low growl, he bit down gently on the back of Justin's neck, soothing the sting with his tongue. Justin groaned and a shiver ran through his body. Brian walked them backward into the bed room, then flipped Justin around and shoved him so he landed on his back on the bed.

He crawled up Justin's body, admiring the fact that his lover had managed to keep his expensive taste and his physique. He blinked slowly and raised his eyebrows.

"How long do you think it'll take to catch up on three years' worth?"

Justin snorted in response.

"Not leaving this bed for a week. Maybe more." Brian smirked.

"Let's get started, then."

Justin practically purred as Brian kissed his way up his throat, one hand coming to rest beside his head, thumb on Justin's temple. Brian nibbled on the shell of Justin's ear, then slipped a hand beneath his shoulder and flipped him over. For a moment he just lay there, covering Justin with his body, then slid down and began to rim him, slowly at first and then faster. Justin was gasping and pushing back against him.

Brian grabbed a condom from the table and slid it on. Justin grabbed Brian's wrist. He glanced up with a sly grin on his face. Whenever Brian saw that grin it made him smirk right back because he knew he was in for something. Of course, he never knew what because Justin was creative and ever-changing in his ideas. Justin brought Brian's hand to his mouth and sucked on his index finger as if it was covered in chocolate icing.

"I don't want you to make love to me, I want you to _fuck_ me. _Brian. Fuck me."_

Brian grabbed Justin's wrists and hauled him off the bed. They stood flush against each other in the middle of the room. Brian rubbed his cock against Justin's ass, teasing.

"What surface do you want me to fuck you on this time, Sunshine?" Justin looked around the room, eyes glassy with lust.

"Christen your new furniture? I don't care. Pick a place and fuck me. We can cover the whole apartment."

Brian grinned. "I like the way you think."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

"Or because you have a great ass," Brian pinched Justin's ass cheek. He pushed Justin against the closest column. "Remember this?"

"Did you miss me?" Justin asked over his shoulder. Brian nibbled Justin's ear, putting Justin's hands above his head.

"Every minute you were away," he licked the back of Justin's neck and ran his hand along Justin's thigh. "Don't ever leave me again."

He pushed into Justin, savoring the tight feel of his perfect ass. It was something he had been longing to feel for three years, and not even the hottest trick could possibly compare to it. Justin groaned and let his head fall back onto Brian's shoulder. His hand slid up to entwine fingers with Brian.

Brian fucked him slowly, savoring his tight heat until he felt Justin's hand on his ass, pressing him in.

"Harder. Please." Justin asked. Brian smiled and complied. He could feel the pleasure coiling in his stomach. He felt Justin sigh and close his eyes.

"We cant have you getting tired after just one measly little fuck, now, can we?" he murmured into Justin's ear. Justin panted out a laugh.

"Trust me, I wont. I haven't fucked anyone in days, and I drank a shitload of energy drinks on the way over here."

"Well, that's good. That means I can fuck you over every surface in the house today."

"That's what I was hoping when I came here."

"God, Sunshine, your sex drive is almost as big as mine. But I bet I can last longer."

"Prove it."

Brian grinned as he set out to do just that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin have reunion fuckfest, then go to the diner to surprise the family with Justin's arrival.

It had been two days since Justin's return to Pittsburgh. He and Brian hadn't left the loft once. Brian had called in sick- although the suspicion in Cynthia's voice told Brian that she assumed he was having a fuck-fest with a bunch of tricks. Well, at least she had it half right.

Brian's eyes were closed, his head tilted back with the throat exposed, a position of glorious vulnerability. His right hand slid down his chest, finding it's way to Justin's head, fingers tangling in his hair. Justin moaned around Brian's cock, making his lover gasp. He loved it when Brian tugged on his hair. It was kind of the reason he had grown it out after leaving Ethan. He knew Brian had a thing for long hair. That was also why it was the way it was now.

Brian bucked up into Justin's mouth as Justin tongued his slit. He tugged on the hair in his fingers. Justin groaned again at the pull. Brian somehow managed to drag Justin off his cock through the haze of lust that the groan had put him in and Justin somehow managed to fumble the condom onto Brian through his shaking desire. Brian growled in Justin's ear and moved to flip him over, but Justin stopped him.

"Not this time." Brian frowned at him. What the fuck did that mean?

And then Justin was straddling Brian, stretching two fingers inside himself, slicking both Brian and himself up, and impaling himself on Brian's cock. Brian gasped and bucked his hips up as the tight heat surrounded him. Justin tweaked a nipple and he grunted, slapping his Sunshine's ass playfully, before the golden laugh enveloped him, and then Justin's ass was clenching on his cock, and the heat was so good, and they were both coming.

An hour later, they were awake and ready for more. Justin glanced over at his suitcase and his perkiness increased.

"By the way, I got us a present."

"Us?"

"It's for me to use, and you to enjoy." Justin winked and bounded, naked, over to his suitcase. Brian admired the alabaster ass from his position on the bed. Justin turned again, hiding whatever it was behind his back, and hopped onto the bed again. Brian tugged him down into a sitting position, and Justin revealed his present with a flourish.

"Mmmm." Brian purred at the idea of sucking his Sunshine off while Justin had the new sky blue plug inside him.

"Thought you'd like it." Justin grinned.

"It matches your eyes. Can we use it now?"

"Ever the romantic." Justin made a mock exasperated face. "Of course. That's why I brought it out."

Brian pounced, kissing Justin soundly. Justin moved to nibble on Brian's earlobe.

"Want to watch me put it in? Or do you want to do it yourself?" His voice was low and rough, heat practically rolling off him in waves. Brian growled.

"I wanna see you slide it in, stretching yourself open with it. Then I'm gonna fuck you with it and suck your brains out your cock."

This time it was Justin's turn to growl. He scooted back on the bed, situating himself so that Brian had the perfect vantage point. Then he spread his legs, wetting his fingers with his own spit, a pushed one finger inside. Soon, a second finger joined, and he tossed his head back, if a little dramatically. A third finger joined, and Brian growled as he watched Justin fucking himself on his hand.

Then the sky blue buttplug was replacing the fingers, and Justin was groaning. By the time it was all the way in, Justin was panting, eyelids drooping and cock impossibly hard. Brian crawled across the bed to kiss Justin, tongue-fucking his mouth before grabbing him by the wrists and lifting him to stand- as best he could- beside the bed. Brian dropped gracefully to his knees, taking the head of Justin's cock in his mouth and suckling. He grinned when Justin's mewling reached his ears, then pulled off and blew cool air on the wet tip. He stood and kissed Justin gently, then whispered in his ear.

"You're not allowed to touch your cock. And you can only come when I tell you to." Justin moaned breathlessly and nodded. Brian walked away, and came back with the dark silk sash from his robe.

"Wha-" Justin didn't have time to ask before the silk was covering his eyes, blocking out all visibility.

"It'll be even more fun this way." Brian's voice oozed with lust, and Justin rolled his hips, thrusting into air. His hand moved forward, but was slapped away. "Ah, ah, ah, not allowed to touch." Brian's voice sang.

Brian manhandled his staggering lust-filled form to the dining room table. Ah, something for him to lean against and hold himself upright, Justin realized. He put his hands firmly on the table behind him and braced himself before Brian's tongue began licking at his thighs and he was shaking.

Brian lapped at his skin like it was the most delicious thing in the world, his tongue sparing no inch, except the one area that needed it most. Justin was groaning for him to stop being a tease.

"Not yet." Brian said, and Justin could hear the smirk in his voice. He was about to bite out a witty but amiable rebuttal, but Brian slapped his ass, and he gasped, both at the sting of slap, and at the plug being pushed farther inside of him.

"Like that?"

"Fuck yes."

Brian licked up his thighs, avoiding Justin's cock, and laved his tongue in his navel instead. He felt fingers kneading his cheeks, every squeeze pushing the plug in and every release pulling it out a bit. Then he was being spun around so fast it almost made him dizzy, and he clung to the counter as Brian's tongue pushed in behind the plug.

"Ahh." He moaned, sliding his right hand off the table to grasp his cock. But Brian was quicker, and the hand was put back on the table.

"Fuck!" Justin cursed as Brian gave his ass a nip. Justin could feel Brian's chuckle and grin as he responded with an "Okay."

He felt fingers sliding inside him, finding the end of the plug and getting a hold on it. He nearly died when he felt the plug being slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, then pushed back in. Somehow, Brian had managed to turn him around without his knowledge and was now back to licking his thighs, adding to the sensation of being fucked slowly by a plug the colour of his own eyes.

Then Brian was fucking him harder with the plug, and Justin was finding it more and more difficult to keep his hands off his cock. After the sixth time in nearly as many seconds, Brian was getting annoyed.

"Dammit, Justin!" He stood up. "Don't you dare touch your cock, Sunshine." He threatened. Within seconds, he was back, and Justin's hands were being tied behind his back, but loose enough that he could steady himself if need be. Then Brian was back to fucking him with that damn butt plug and mercilessly teasing him into oblivion.

"Brian, Brian!" Justin's voice was shaking with need as Brian's breath ghosted over his cock. "I'm gonna-"

"Not yet, Sunshine." Brian admonished. "Not until I say so." For a moment there was nothing but Justin's ragged breathing in the room. Justin was sure Brian was staring at his cock, admiring how purple-swollen it was, watching precum roll down. Then a Brian's mouth was finally surrounding him, and he was being fucked again, and he fucked Brian's mouth, trying hard to stave off his climax until Brian told him it was okay. He was shaking, trembling with need, sweat rolling down his face and back. Brian swallowed around his cock, making Justin cry out, then he was pulling back and Justin was thrusting at air, so close, so close. Brian nuzzled the hair at the base of Justin's cock.

"Go ahead," he murmured. "Come for me."

He wrapped his lips around the head of Justin's cock one more time, tongued the slit, and Justin tossed his head back and came, harder than he had in the past to days, hell in the past three and a half years, shuddering through it and collapsing onto the ground, half on Brian and half on the floor, shaking like a run-out horse.

"Fuck." Justin, choked out, tugging off the blindfold as soon as Brian set his hands free.

"Yeah." Brian agreed. He pushed his tongue into his cheek. "That was really fuckin hot."

They lay there on the floor, sated and tired, until Brian found the energy to tug them both onto the bed, where they collapsed into sleep.

A few hours later, they were showered and dressed, awake and alert and ready for life again.

"I'm hungry. Let's go to the diner. I can see everyone else."

"Do they know you're back?"

"No. I thought I'd surprise them."

"Debbie will fuckin' flip. Make sure she doesn't squeeze the life out of you."

They laughed at the thought of the expression they'd see on Debbie's face when they walked in the door. Justin just hoped that the rest of the gang was there, so he could surprise them all. No one, not even Lindsay, had known he was coming back. He assumed they all thought that he was making it big in New York and had found a new life and a new boy toy. Oh, how they were wrong.

* * *

As they drove to the diner, Brian's hand kept creeping to Justin's crotch, and Justin continued to slap it away.

"Quit it!" He laughed. "I don't want to have a boner walking in there. You can be all over me once we get inside."

Brian heaved an overly dramatic indignant sigh and ceased his attempts. Soon they were coming to a stop beside the diner and getting out. Justin could help the grin from spreading across his face. Brian looked at him and smiled too. That Sunshine grin was infectious.

They looked at each other, trying to school their features into something a little less excited and more normal, before pushing open the door and entering the Liberty Diner.

For a moment there was just the normal chatter and clink of the diner, then a ear-piercing shriek exploded through the building. A red-haired, brightly-clad Debbie practically ran to them.

"Sunshine!" She nearly knocked them both over with the force of her hug. "You're back!"

Justin nodded, unable to do anything else, since all the air was being squished out of him. He watched over Debbie's shoulder as the rest of the gang rose from their seats and bustled over.

"Easy, Deb. You don't want to kill the boy on his first day back in the Pitts." But Brian was grinning, too. Debbie released him and Justin went about greeting the rest of the extended family.

"How long are you going to be here?" Emmett asked.

"I'm here to stay. My manager in New York said it would be okay if I found a studio and made my art here. I've garnered enough attention out there that I don't need to stay to sell my work."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Emmett was practically jumping up and down, and Debbie was hugging him again. Justin grinned at them, acknowledging Blake, whose arm was linked around Ted's.

Somehow, through all the excitement and questions being rapid fired at Justin, they all managed to sit back down in a booth. Debbie took orders quickly, and sat back down to listen to Justin.

"So how was New York?" Emmett inquired in eager falsetto.

"Well, it's not Pittsburgh." Justin grinned at him. "At first, it was overwhelming. It's huge! And I didn't know anyone. Daphne's friend was really nice, but she was straight, and I couldn't talk to her like I could with Daph. And I didn't really get a chance to build up friends like you guys. At first I was always working, then I was always painting and going to gallery showings and stuff.

I spent a lot of the first year just checking stuff out. The food is really good. But everything is so damn expensive. The clubs in New York are huge! And there're a lot of them. And the guys are really hot."

"We know." Emmett interjected. "Where do you think we were when Brian brought you back from New York all those years ago?"

Justin snorted, shaking his head. "Anyway, I just worked for the first half of the year, then I managed to get myself a studio and move out of Daphne's friend's place. I painted a whole bunch, and then finally, Roger- that's my manger, shut up, Brian- saw my work and asked if he could be my manager. I said sure, and then my paintings just took off. By the way, I have a painting for each of you to have.

I got a whole lot of attention. I've been keeping in touch with Lindsay. She wants me to send her every single article about me that comes out. But this past year, I kinda felt like something was missing. I noticed that before this year, I had always been able to draw Brian and the rest of you-"

"But mostly me." Brian grinned. The rest of the table groaned. Emmett rolled his eyes. Debbie gave Brian a light _thwack_ on the head.

"Yes, mostly Brian. I had been able to draw everyone from memory. But this year, I went to sketch Brian, and I realized that I needed a picture to reference to. I decided that meant it was time to come home. So I talked to Roger and he decided it was okay that I continue making my art here, so long as I can find time to fly to New York for shows and meeting big important people."

"I told you you were going to be a big fat fucking success." Brian said. "I was right."

"Oh, I'm so glad your home, Baby!" Emmett squealed.

"Yeah, and I wont have to give up on Rage," Michael said. "We can work on a new issue."

Justin nodded. "I have quite a few ideas. We need to get together and brainstorm."

"And he's living with me again." Brian added.

"I am?" Justin looked at him. Brian just raised an eyebrow. _Do you really need to ask?_ It said. Justin gave Brian a full-watt Sunshine smile.

"So, are you two gonna tie the knot now?" Debbie asked, the question that had been sparkling in her eyes the whole evening now finally making its way out of her mouth. Brian looked at Justin questioningly, watching his eyes. There was a nearly imperceptible shake of his head that only Brian caught, and he turned back to the group.

"No, we're not. We decided before Justin left that….that we didn't need rings or vows to prove that we care about each other. That we don't need that to stay together." Justin looked at Brian, realizing suddenly that Brian still couldn't say the word love, but that it didn't really matter to either of them any more.

Debbie huffed, but Emmett nodded in what seemed like approval. Ted shrugged. He didn't really care one way or the other. Ben nodded in understanding and Michael made a face. He still didn't understand Brian, or his dislike of marriage, but it was their choice.

The bell dinged. "Deb, your order's up!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ben are having trouble, Babylon reopens, Justin plans to go back to New York for an interview. Brian gets a phone call.

Emmett and Ted sat in a booth at a diner, watching Justin and Brian, who were seated at the counter, talking and laughing, all over each other. Brian leaned over and said something into Justin's ear, making Justin laugh before he kissed the blonde's neck.

Emmett smiled at them. "They're so cute! They're like newlyweds!"

Ted spooned vanilla pudding into his mouth. "So, how long do you think they'll last?"

Staring at the pair, Emmett sized them up. "I give it three more months."

"Ha. One month."

"Fine. How much?"

"Fifty bucks."

"You're on."

* * *

Something shrill was rocking through Brian's brain. Reluctantly, he tugged himself out of sleep enough to recognize the sound as the phone ringing and to feel the bed shift as Justin got up to answer it. He groaned and stuck his face back into the pillow. Afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows and on to the bed, making it difficult to find sleep again.

"Brian!" Justin's voice called.

"Mmm huh?" Brian responded thickly. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

"Daphne called. I'm going to go over to her house. She's having boyfriend troubles and wants to talk."

"Mmprgffm…" He felt rather than heard Justin's indignant stomps as he entered the bedroom, then Justin was pulling the sheets away and rolling him over bodily.

"Get up, get dressed and get water into your system. That'll wake you up. You're dehydrated because _someone_ forgot to supply themselves with water while fucking me into the mattress."

"Good for him."

"Get. UP!" Justin shoved him onto the floor. Ouch. Fine. Brian hauled himself up and into the shower. He heard Justin dressing and grabbing his satchel. "Bye!"

"Bye, Sunshine!" Brian quickly showered and dressed, wandering over to the kitchen to grab an apple. He glanced at the clock. Almost four. The phone rang and he strolled over, picking it up.

"Yeah?"

"Brian, it's me."

"Oh, why, Michael Novotny! How nice of you to grace me with your presence. Or, your voice, as it were."

"Wanna go to Woody's?"

"I thought you didn't party any more. I thought that you were too much of a high and mighty stepford fag to go out with the boys for a drink."

"Shut up, Brian. And don't call me that. I'm bored. I want to go out and do something."

"Okay. Well, what about the Professor?"

"Had to stay late. He's teaching evening classes now, too."

"Too bad."

"Do you want to hang out with me or not, Brian?"

Brian sighed. "Fine. When?"

"In, like, an hour?"

"See you there."

"Kay." They hung up.

Brian lined up his shot, rolling the cue between his fingers before pulling it back. A familiar pair of jeans walked into his line of sight and he looked up, then stood up with a smirk.

"Hey, Mikey."

"Hey."

"Get a drink?"

"Yeah." Brian put his cue down and they headed over to the bar, ordering drinks. Michael let out a long, slow breath, staring at his bottle.

"Mikey…" Brian waited while Michael picked at the label of his beer. He knew his best friend would tell him what was going on. He looked at Michael and counted in his head. Four, three, two, one.

"Ben is acting weird." Brian raised his eyebrows, silently asking for clarification and continuation. "He works all the time, and when he's not working, he's writing, or going to the gym, or something. He barely talks to Hunter and me, and I'm afraid he's going to make himself sick. Last week, he got word that an old friend of his who was positive had died, and now he's not really eating. I'm worried about him. I don't want him to start using again."

"Michael, he's…" God, he was so shitty at consoling people. "He's, I don't know, grieving. Let him get it out and then it will be fine."

"Yeah, I guess. But what about the next time an old friend dies? And the next? I feel like we're surrounded by death, this whole family. First Justin, then Uncle Vic, then you…." He trailed off, taking a long pull from his beer bottle before looking up at Brian again. "I just don't want anything to happen to him."

"It won't." Brian promised, pulled Michael into his arms. "It won't." Then he quickly changed the subject to something more lighthearted and Mikey was himself again, laughing and joking. That night, they went back to Debbie's and spent the night looking at comics from their childhood. Brian didn't get in until midnight.

* * *

"Deb! Coffee?" Brian called in impatience.

"It's coming. Don't get your balls in a twist." She bustled over, poured him more coffee, and hurried back to pick up an order.

Michael poked his head in between Justin and Brian's shoulders.

"Hey, Brian. Why didn't you come and show me the new drawings for Rage three weeks ago, like you said you would?" He asked Justin.

"I was kind of sick, so I spent the day in bed." He grinned. Michael rolled his eyes. "I'll come over later today if you want me to."

"Sure."

"Justin! Get your perky butt over here!" Debbie's call sounded from the back of the diner. Justin had taken up his old job in the diner, for a little extra cash and because he just loved Debbie.

"Coming!"

Suddenly, Ted was beside them. "Brian, I just got the confirmation. Everything's okay. You're set to open whenever you're ready."

"Open what?" Justin leaned over the table.

"Tell him, Bri." Brian grinned.

"I'm reopening Babylon."

"Babylon? But I thought it was ruined. Just a burned out shell."

"Well, it was. But I cleaned it up. I couldn't let a shithole like Popperz become the hottest place on Liberty."

"Of course." Justin gave him a look. Brian grinned. Ted smirked and joined Emmett ad Michael at the booth. Justin gave Brian a pointed look. "What's the real reason?"

"You got me, Sunshine." He held up his hands in surrender, then bent close, talking softly. "Because Babylon is where it began. And it's not over. So Babylon's not over." Justin's sunshine smile lit up, and Brian realized all the silent promises and declarations those sentences had just meant.

Justin took Brian's hand in his own and nuzzled his neck gently. Normally, Brian would have pulled away even now, but today he let it slide. "Do you want to open tonight?" Justin asked softly.

Brian grinned. "That's just what I was planning, Sunshine."

"Then let's go."

* * *

For weeks, there had been whispers and mumbles throughout Liberty Avenue about Babylon reopening. Of course, Justin had been much too preoccupied with Brian and with his art to hear that, and the family didn't really talk about it because they already knew it was definitely going to happen.

The gay _thumpa thumpa_ was back, and fags flocked to the club just from the familiar sound of it. The line was all the way down the street, and Brian couldn't stop grinning. He and Justin danced, together, with other guys, it didn't matter. They were just glad to be in the familiar place again where everything was wiped clean by the soul-shattering beat that vibrated and spun every particle in your body and took control of you, making you move with abandon whether you wanted to or not. They were home, where everything had begun. Where life for both of them had brightened and been given meaning.

"God, I missed this!" Justin shouted over the music.

"Weren't there enough clubs in the Big Apple?"

"Yeah, but they weren't Babylon. And you weren't there."

"Oh, now don't get all mushy and lesbianic on me, Sunshine." Justin grinned at him and took the bump offered to him.

"Fine." He turned and ground his ass into Brian, then sauntered away toward the back room. With a low growl, Brian pulled Justin back to him, latching onto his neck, and walked them both into the back room.

* * *

Brian barely remembered the drive home. That was probably because Justin had been quite distracting, first trying to make out with him, and when that didn't work (they almost swerved into a lightpost), licking and sucking at his neck, then licking and sucking at his cock. But it was okay now because he had his dick in Justin's ass, and was fucking him into oblivion.

Justin reached back, digging his nails into Brian's thigh, urging him on.

"Brian, please. Harder. Please." Brian growled possessively at his lover's begging, tangling his fingers in the blonde hair and tugging Justin's head back to kiss and suck at the skin of his neck. He felt Justin groan and shudder beneath him, then Justin's ass was clenching him hard and he was coming, groaning, Justin's channel tight, milking his cock for more.

They collapsed in a heap on the bed, just lying there for a while before Brian pulled out, eliciting a groan of loss from both of them. Justin watched as he tugged off the condom and tied it, dropping it away before grabbing a cigarette and lighting. Brian sighed again. That had been a great fuck. And it had been made all the better because Babylon was back. For once, he was incredibly happy.

"Hey, Brian?" Brian blew a puff of smoke and looked at his lover. He raised an eyebrow.

"Mm?"

"I got a call from Roger. I have to go into New York next month."

"It's what you gotta do. You know I'm not going to stop you."

"I know. I'm just letting you know."

"Okay." Justin took Brian's cigarette from between his fingers and took a drag.

"Thief." He grinned. Justin grinned back and flopped his head onto Brian's shoulder.

* * *

Brian sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day at Kinnetic, and for some reason everyone decided they were going to fuck up or be sick or something today. He really wanted to be home. He could hear Cynthia outside bitching out some new intern for him. Good. Again, he rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. It was a goddamn long, horrible day and he wanted nothing more than to be at the loft, fucking Justin.

His cell phone rang. Brian groaned and answered it without looking.

"Yeah?"

"Bri-Brian. I-I-It's me."

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose even tighter. Could this day possible get any worse? "What do you want?"

"Brian, i-i-it….I…she…" Brian could barely understand through the blubbering.

"Jesus Christ, Claire. Get a grip on yourself. What the fuck is going on?"

"I-It's Mom. She….she's gone."

"Okay, so she decided to skip town. Maybe she found herself a nice reverend fuck buddy."

"N-no, Brian. I mean, s-she's _gone_." Brian hung up the phone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Michael fight, and Michael finds out the truth. Justin confides in Emmett.

"Brian?" Justin frowned at the dark shape sitting slumped on the couch in the semi-darkness. "Bri?" He walked over and put his hand on his lover's knee, crouching to look into his face. Brian was staring straight ahead at nothing, a bottle of half-empty Jim Beam dangling forgotten from his left hand.

"My mom died."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" No answer. "Brian?"

"So she was my mom. She was a cunt and she deserved what she got. Now can we go to bed?" He didn't want to think about his stupid ignorant bitch of a mother, he didn't want to think about having go through another scenario like his dad's funeral. So he got up and wandered into the bedroom, Justin following behind.

Justin seemed to understand whatever silent plea Brian's body was emanating, because he laid himself down on the bed and allowed Brian to undress him slowly, eyes scanning him and taking everything in before turning him over and pushing slowly inside. Brian drew out the pleasure, the fucking, as long as he could, to keep from thinking about anything else but Sunshine. When he came, his mind blanked blissfully and he managed to pull out before falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Coffee. Now." Brian threw himself down in a booth. Debbie looked at him exasperatedly, hands on her hips.

"Please?"

"Please." Brian repeated flatly, glaring at her.

"What happened to you?" Ted asked as he and Michael turned to look at the ad exec sitting slumped in the booth. Justin, who had taken up working at the diner again for a little extra cash, and because he loved Debbie, wandered up.

The blonde poured them more coffee. "His mom died." He ran a gentle hand across the back of Brian's neck, raising his eyebrows slightly in amazement when the brunette didn't pull away.

"Oh, Brian, I'm so sorry." Michael twisted in his seat and patted Brian's shoulder. The brunette glared up at Justin half-heartedly.

"Thanks, Sunshine, for unleashing the pity of Liberty Avenue on me." Justin shrugged and pecked his cheek, running a hand across his shoulder again.

"Brian, are you okay? Do you need help? I'm so sorry." Brian waved him away.

"Michael, it's fine. I'm okay. I need to get to work." He drained his cup of coffee and stood, jerking a bit when Michael stood up and pulled him into a hug. He stood awkwardly in the embrace for a moment, his arms at his sides, before pulling away and patting Mikey's shoulder wearily. Then with a small half-smile at Justin, he left for Kinnetic.

At work, Mikey called him as much as he could to check into see if Brian was okay. Brian would roll his eyes and tell Mikey that he was fine and he could take care of himself, and didn't he have Ben to attend to? Michael would sigh dejectedly and tell him that Ben was teaching a class, and wasn't home yet and wouldn't be for another few hours. Brian would make some sarcastic comment and reassure Mikey again that he was fine and had to get back to work, and would hang up, knowing that in another hour or so Michael would be calling again. The day went on like this, along with long periods of Brian just sitting at his desk, staring at nothing, thinking about nothing. He barely got any work done. Finally, Michael called one more time and Brian just told him to fuck off and leave him alone, he needed to work. Michael had grumbled something about being a good friend, which had caused Brian to yell at him for being annoying and didn't he have a husband to be a good little housewife to? Michael hung up on him, and Brian sat at his desk with a dial tone in his ear for some time.

* * *

Sitting up, Brian wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel, and reached for his water bottle. He rolled his eyes at some troll checking him out. "Not interested." He decided to bypass the steam room, since he kind of needed to go talk to Claire about the stupid funeral arrangements. Groaning inwardly at the thought, he headed into the locker room to get dressed.

He looked up from the floor in time to see a familiar body, hands exchanging a familiar vial. Brian shook his head as he sauntered up to his locker, opening it and pulling out a clean pair of shorts.

"Little obvious, don't you think?"

"Brian! I-I didn't see you." Ben was surprised.

"Just like last time, I know. Don't you think it's a bit immature to be lying to your husband about shooting up? It's kind of a dick move to do to someone you, um, love." He tugged off his shirt.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Since you're the king of dick moves."

Brian raised his hands. "Hey, hey, don't go throwing me into lockers again. I'll have to tell your wife."

"Fuck you, Brian!" Ben yanked on his jacket and stormed past Brian. With a shrug, the brunette continued to pull on his clothes as if nothing had happened. He shook his head. Oh, Mikey.

Brian sighed in resignation as he got in the 'Vette to drive to Claire's. First Ben, now Claire. This was going to be a long fucking day.

* * *

"Oh. Brian." Claire sounded both relieved and disappointed when she answered the door. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes seemed glazed and vacant. He pushed his way inside, turning roughly to face her.

"What happened?"

She looked up at him, unseeing. "Huh?"

"What happened? How'd the bitch go?"

"Brian!" But she softened a bit, her eyes tearing up. "The doctor said something about heart….failure due to alcoholism." She hiccupped.

Brian scoffed. "Had it coming." He mumbled under his breath. Claire glared at him, but said nothing. She put a hand over her mouth to keep tears at bay. He looked up at her. "What do you want me for?"

Claire began blubbering again. "I-I-I c-cant do a-all the arrangements m-myself."

"Yeah, I can see that. Fine. I'll make some calls. But you get to sort out her shit yourself. I'm not touching any of it."

"But-"

"Fuck, Claire. Just be glad I said I'd fucking help. I'm not dealing with that cunt's stuff." He stalked out of the house and into the 'Vette, slamming the door.

* * *

"Hey, Mikey." Brian slid into a booth where Michael sat alone, contemplating his half-eaten sandwich.

"What do you want?"

"I saw your boyfriend today. He's using again, you know."

"No, he's not, I asked him. He said he wasn't."

"Well, uh, Mikey, he's lying. I saw him making a transaction in the locker room at the gym today."

"Brian, don't fucking accuse Ben of something he's not doing. I trust my husband. It's something you do when your in love. Of course, you've never experienced that before. You're not in a real relationship, so what would you know about trust? You don't love Justin the way I love Ben."

"Fuck you, Michael." Brian's voice was low, threatening, angry. "Not everyone's a fucking stepford fag defector like you two. Not everyone's life is a goddamn farce. You know about Justin and my arrangement. You know who I am and who he is. You know what we've been through. And you know how long we've been with each other. So fuck you."

Michael shoved his plate away, leaning over the table. "No, fuck you! I cant believe we're still having this argument. You never change! You only think of yourself! Fine, if you want to accuse people of things, go ahead. You wont be doing it around me any more!" He got up and stomped out of the diner. Brian sighed and put his chin in his hand, staring out the door.

Debbie approached him steadily, coffee pot in hand. He rubbed one hand across his face and held up the other one.

"Not now, Deb." She raised her eyebrow. Like words had ever stopped her before. Setting her coffee pot down on the table, she snapped her gum for a moment as if choosing the best way to ream him out. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at him in her motherly way.

"You had no right to talk to my son that way, and no right to tell him something he doesn't want to know." Brian looked away from her into his cup of coffee. "If he trusts Ben then he should be able to trust him without you getting in the way. You know he loves Ben, and you know that he wants the best for everyone. You were out of line telling him what you saw. It is not your place to get in their business."

"I-"

"I'm not done yet. You were out of line, but so was Michael. He should know better than to say that shit about you and Sunshine. We all know how much you two love each other, despite the fact that you never say it. Michael was out of place saying that you don't have a real relationship. I don't know what came over him. We all know what you two have done for each other. He had no right to say that either. You two were both in the wrong." Her voice softened and she cupped his cheek, he leaned into the touch. "And, baby, I'm sorry about your mother."

He brushed her off. "Nah, it's okay." He looked at his watch. "I better go."

"Okay." She nodded, then pulled him into a swift, strong hug. He closed his eyes and savored her embrace, kissing her on the cheek when she released him.

"Thanks, Ma." He squeezed her arm gently and hurried out. Debbie stared after him as he left, running a hand through his hair. He knew she would always be more of a mother to him than Saint Joan ever was. Joan may have given birth to him, but Debbie had raised and nurtured him. Which was probably why he didn't turn out worse than he was. With a sigh, he opened the door to the 'Vette and got in.

* * *

Justin hustled out of the wind and into Red Cape Comics. The gusts outside were whipping flurries of the remaining snowfall all about, sending papers flying and numbing any exposed skin. He stopped inside the doorway to brush the snow off his jacket, then stepped up to the counter, tugging off his scarf.

"Hey, Michael." Michael looked up from his comic. "I came by to drop of the finalized sheets for the new book." He dug around in his satchel and produced a bundle of papers.

Michael took the sheets, flipping through them. "Thanks."

"By the way, I don't know if he told you this already, but the other day, Brian said he-"

"You can tell Brian to fuck off. I don't give a shit what he wants or what he says. I have no business with him any longer."

Justin frowned. "Okay….call me when you're ready to design the cover." He gave Michael another slow, concerned glance before heading out the door.

Justin came home to find Brian typing away on the computer, a full, newly opened bottle of Jim Beam sitting beside him. He shrugged Justin off when the blonde tried to wraps his arms around his shoulders. Justin gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and wandered over to the refrigerator.

"Why is Michael mad at you?"

"Fuck Michael."

"Brian, he's your best friend. You guys shouldn't fight. What happened?"

Brian turned away, rubbing a hand over his mouth."He said….I told him Ben's using again. He said….he said I didn't love you the way he loved Ben. He said we weren't in a real relationship."

"Oh, Brian, I'm sure he didn't-" Justin took a few steps forward.

"He did, and I said, fuck off!" Brian whipped around in his chair, his wide gesture knocking the bottle of liquor to the floor, where it shattered. Justin flinched at the noise, noting too late the empty bottle sitting in the bottom of the trash can. Justin took a deep breath, and for once, gave Brian what he wanted.

"Fine." He shoved his jacket back on, jamming a hat on his head and left. Brian pulled at his face in frustration before stepping over the mess and retrieving himself another unopened bottle of JB.

* * *

Justin knocked wearily on Debbie's front door. He looked at his watch. It was only eight o'clock. Someone had to be home. Finally, the door opened and Emmett greeted him.

"Hi, Baby. What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Em." Justin let himself inside and plopped down on the worn but comfortable couch, putting his head in his hands. He was actually kind of glad that Debbie wasn't home. He knew that if he talked to Debbie, she would go and yell at Brian, and that seemed like the last thing that his partner needed. If he talked to Emmett, he could just talk and get it out. Emmett might even be able to give him advice. But he didn't know how or where to start. He blew a puff of air between clenched teeth.

Emmett sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I…" Justin flailed for a moment, looking for the words. "I don't know! Brian and Michael are fighting again. But…all the…all the other times, one of them seemed sorry. One of them seemed like he wanted to apologize. But this time, something's different. They seem like they _hate_ each other. I don't know what happened!" He threw himself out of Emmett's embrace and buried his face in a throw pillow in exasperation.

"Did either of them mention what happened."

"Mmm. Brian said that he told Michael that Ben was using again and Michael got pissed and said that Brian didn't love me like he loved Ben." His voice was muffled by the pillow. "So Brian got all pissed off. I'm certain there were other words exchanged, but he didn't say anything other than that. He said that Michael had definitely meant it. Then he told me to fuck off. Why would Michael say something like that to Brian? They're best friends. I don't get it."

"Honey, Michael doesn't understand Brian. You do." Justin pulled his face out of the pillow and looked up at him, eyes begging for clarification. "Even though they've known each other for years, Michael doesn't get Brian. He thinks he does. But he pushes Brian, he tries to get him to say or do things that he doesn't mean, and you and I both know Brian wouldn't do that. Not only that, but he tries to get inside Brian's head. He tries to understand his mind, which is hard enough. But he was raised so differently than Brian, and he has expectations of Brian. Michael won't understand his reasoning of being with you because he never expected or imagined Brian falling in love with anyone but him."

"I know Michael used to love Brian, but I thought he had Ben now."

"He does have Ben. But I think there's still a part of him inside that refuses to see that Brian has changed. He refuses to acknowledge the fact that Brian is capable of loving someone."

"I wish he could see what I see. Even though he never says it, Emmett, Brian really loves all of you." Emmett nodded. "The worst part is that, I have to leave for New York in a few days. His mother's funeral is two days after I leave. Normally I would feel alright because, you know, he'd have Michael. But now….Now, I don't know."

* * *

Michael slammed the door, stomping in and kicking off his shoes, tossing them in the general vicinity of the stairs. He made his way into the kitchen, clanging things around as he went. He made himself a sandwich, slamming the utensils and fixings on the counter almost hard enough to break them. He was making enough noise not to hear footsteps coming tentatively down the stairs.

"Michael? Dad?" Hunter questioned. Michael looked.

"Oh. Hi. Sorry, Hunter."

"Are you okay? Did you and Ben fight?"

"What? No. Brian and I….we…have decided to agree to disagree."

"Don't sugarcoat it, dude. You guys are pissed at each other. What'd he do?"

"It's a long story."

"All right." Hunter flopped down on the couch, turning on the TV and leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.

Michael leaned against the counter, eating his sandwich, still fuming. He took a long drink of water to calm down. On the first step to the stairs, he turned.

"Hunter?"

"Hmm?"

"Is Ben here?"

"No, he went out. I think he's with friends. Or maybe he's teaching a class. He didn't say."

"Okay."

Michael headed up the stairs, toward their bedroom. In the hall, he passed the bathroom, it's lights still on. Hunter always forgot to turn them off. He leaned in, reaching around the corner to flip the switch, when the plastic trashbag caught his eye. He stepped slowly closer, reaching out and picking up the plastic trash bin. He turned it sideways and dumped the contents on the white tile floor. An empty shaving cream bottle, a couple of bandaid wrappers, floss, a empty toilet paper tube, and…. _shit_. Michael stared down at the syringe among all the other normal bathroom litter. His breath quickened. _Fuck._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Claire plan the funeral. Ben discovers that he's been found out. Justin goes to his interview in New York and gets an unpleasant surprise.

"Shit, Claire." Brian pressed his thumb and forefinger into the corner of his eyes, leaning back into the couch. "It's just a reception. It doesn't need to be perfect, and there's no need to freak out."

Claire turned a teary glare to him. "It's Mom's funeral, Brian. She would want everything to be perfect."

"Yeah, well, she never got that, did she? First she had Jack, then you, then me. No, I don't think she ever got anything to be perfect."

"Shut up, Brian." He gave her a tired smirk and she glared at him again. "And don't pull another fucking stunt like the one at Daddy's funeral. Don't you dare."

He held up his hands. "Oh, of course not, Claire. I would never do that to dear old Saint Joanie. Never."

She thudded a vase of roses down on the table and turned on him. "Fine. If you're not going to help me now, then just go away. But I expect you to be at the funeral. On time. And sober."

He stood. "Fine. Although the last two you might not get." He glorified a little in her huff as he went out the door.

* * *

"Dumpling, I'm home! Michael?" Ben looked around the living room. "Hunter!" he called into the kitchen where Hunter was sitting with headphones.

"Huh? Yeah?"

"Where's Michael?"

"I dunno. He went storming out of the house with a backpack. Maybe he had an emergency at the store."

"Uh…okay." Ben made his way slowly up the stairs. He kicked off his shoes in the bedroom and headed to the bathroom to wash his face. He scrubbed his face until he finally felt clean, then glanced around the bathroom. Something seemed off. He looked around. The trash bin was on its side, the plastic trash bag ripped, its contents gone.

* * *

Brian actually made it to the funeral on time. He had considered not going at all, but decided that it might be amusing to see the spectacle of his mother's funeral. Reverend Buttfuck was giving the last rights and the eulogy. He smirked at the thought and hid himself in the back. After about five minutes of the reverend droning on and on, Brian left the small group dressed in black, stomping through the slush to stand beneath a tree. Jack and Joan were not being buried near each other. He lit a joint and sucked the sweet smoke into his lungs, welcoming the burn. He glanced back at the group, scoffed. What good was Joan anyway?

Brian sat sprawled on the couch in his childhood house, letting Claire do the hostess work. He rolled his eyes. She was sobbing again, shoulders shaking as she asked random guests if they'd care for a sandwich or whatever other hors d'oeuvres were wasting away there on the table.

"Um, excuse me everyone." Claire sniffled. "I…I just wondered if anyone had some good memories of Mom." She stared pointed at Brian. "If anyone wants to start? Reverend?"

Reverend Buttfuck turned to her, smiling gently, obviously trying to comfort. "Joan was a sweet woman. She always came to mass, and always stayed behind to talk to me about scripture. Since she lived alone, I spent quite a bit of time with her. I must admit that she treated me like a son. The church and I will miss her."

"Thank you, Father." She looked around. "Anyone else?"

Some old woman piped up from the back. "She knew the bible from cover to cover. Even during church get togethers, she could quote any part without looking. She was a very devout woman." Brian snorted.

"She, uh, once handed me a tissue during Reverend O'Malley's funeral."

"Thank you, everyone." Claire's voice was soft. Brian raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Claire," he said conversationally. She whipped around to glare forcefully at him, but he just smiled glibly and went on. "Remember that time in high school when Joan was drunk, and caught you wearing high heels? She called you a slut and kicked you out. Then when Jack came home and found you sitting outside in the rain, he didn't let you inside either. So you had to climb up the rose trellis."

Claire's eyes grew wider and wetter than they had been before, her face turning red. She drew herself up to her full height (nowhere near close to Brian) and stepped hotly to the front door, wrenching it open. She pointed toward the driveway.

"Out. Now." Brian gave a little smirk. His work was done here. He shrugged slightly, standing and walking toward the door. As he passed her, he gave Claire an abrasive leer. He heard her break down as the door shut behind her and reveled in it a bit. Then he decided to go home and get drunk. He wasn't in the mood for the trolls at Woody's, not now.

Brian slammed the loft's door closed, kicked off his shoes. He half expected Justin to come out of the bedroom and caress his cheek gently, asking him if he was okay. Then he remembered that Justin was in New York. He grabbed a couple bottles of Beam and his stash of weed and settled in.

Within an hour he had nearly drunk both bottles of Beam, and was planning to go get more, and had smoked a few joints. For a moment he felt amazed that Michael or Justin or Lindsay hadn't called him to make sure he wasn't dead, then he remembered that Michael was a dick, Justin was busy in New York, and Lindsay didn't even know that Joan had died. He took another gulp of Beam, and his thoughts unwillingly wandered to his life in the Kinney household.

He remembered his father's almost nightly yells, Joan freaking out and begging him to "be quiet, you're scaring the children," but during the daytime he was almost kind to Claire. He'd let her sit on his lap while they watched TV, he'd tickle her and make her laugh until she cried. And he didn't get mad when she called him "Daddy."

He cleared his throat. His head felt fuzzy. Probably from the massive amounts of drugs and alcohol he'd been abusing his body with. And Joan. Joan had never done a thing to protect him when Jack was beating him up in a drunken frenzy. And Jack had rarely laid a finger on Claire. And Jack always scolded him when he got a bad grade, always said he'd be good for nothing, as Joan scolded him for dicking around during Mass. Claire had always been Daddy's little girl. And Brian….well, Brian was nothing.

He let the bottle of Beam slip from his limp fingers with a thud.

* * *

Justin walked into his studio, sighing. He had spent the past three days being dragged around New York by Roger, taken to galleries that could be interested in his work, being interviewed by reporters who wanted to know more about this up and coming artist, and eating sushi with his manager and whatever new important art critic was out there. Four more days of this, and it'll be over, he thought wearily.

He looked around the studio/gallery where he and a few other artists worked. The entrance room was horizontally long, with a door on the left leading to bathrooms and a custodial closet. The back of the entrance was open, with railings running along the back, four paintings hanging in the open space on each side. In the middle of the railings, a tiny flight of stairs lead down into the open gallery area, which was only about four feet lower than the entrance. Painting and canvases lined the walls, some on display, some covered. Easels stood scattered about in the center of the room, displaying more canvases. Large, paned windows diffused the light and brightened the gallery. In the back, a pair of double doors opened to three rooms: a storage room for unfinished works, a room full of washbasins, extra easels, brushes and paints, and a center room that was divided into individual work spaces. Justin loved working here.

He squared his shoulders and stepped inside the main room. He smiled gently at the reporter, who was quietly inspecting his newest paintings leaning along the walls.

He had really been dreading this interview. The reporter was going to be asking him about the new exhibit that would be showing in a few months, as soon as he finished his last two pieces and they were shipped to the city. Justin sat down in a chair in an aesthetically-pleasing looking corner and waited. Soon, the reporter came up to him, her microphone in hand.

"Hi, Mr. Taylor, I'm Jenna Morgensen."

"Hi. So, you wanted to ask me about my art."

"Yes." She smiled at him, looking him up and down, obviously observing his mannerisms so she could describe them later. "Just a few questions about your artistic background, then we'll get in to the rest of the stuff."

"Okay."

"When did you start drawing and painting?"

"Well, my mom gave me crayons when I was still in the crib, and I never really stopped. I didn't start painting until senior year in high school."

"Am I correct in the assumption that you have an art degree?"

"Actually, no. I did go to the Pittsburg Institute of Fine Arts for a little under three years. I was expelled for using my art and my internship in order to express my political opinions."

Jenna raised her eyebrows. "Ah. Do you mainly use paint as a medium, now?"

"Well, mostly. Because of an incident in high school, I sustained a brain injury that affected my hand. I cant hold a pencil and do fine line drawings for long periods of time. But at home in Pittsburg I use a digital arts program on my computer as well as paint and charcoal."

"Can you tell me what happened to you that caused you brain damage?" The reporter was gentle. Justin lifted one shoulder towards his ear, looked across the room to the large window. He looked back at the reporter.

"I was attacked when I was a teenager. I was in a coma for two weeks. I had to have a few months of rehab in order to get my hand in good enough shape to draw again. Even so, I was accepted to PIFA."

"That must have been hard." Justin nodded. "So, about your current work. You have a very interesting style. Some of your work is very abstract, and some of it is very realistic. And there's a sort of sex appeal and sensual quality that emanates from a lot of your pieces." Justin gave her a half-grin.

"That's something that's said very frequently."

"This exhibit seems different, why is that?" Jenna turned to scrutinize his work again. Justin shifted in his seat; this was the part he had been sort of dreading. He glanced up at his paintings. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

The first painting in the series was a circular abstract piece full of browns and golds and greens. It made him grin madly every time he looked at it. The second seemed abstract, and only two other people besides Justin would have recognized. It was made mostly of different shades of white and red, with streaks of brown. The painting was shadowy and dark, with an air of fear and pain, but also, strangely, of safety. The third was made up of shapes of black and grey and orange, obscured by an ashy layer, but one dark shape was clearer than the others. It was obvious that it was two figures, but they were wrapped around each other as one. The fourth was incredibly abstract, but it was obvious from the shapes and colors that it depicted a busy, distinctive street. The only realistic-looking part of the painting was a perfectly detailed streetlight, shining down on the sidewalk. He still had two more paintings back in Pittsburgh to finish.

The reporter turned back to him, expectant. He opened his mouth, then thought better of it and stopped, thinking of how to phrase what he wanted to say.

"These paintings are very personal to me. They….represent times in my life that were extremely…significant. They represent moments in my life that changed my perspective on things, that changed my feelings for certain things or people."

"Hmmm. They're very darker, darker the most of your other work."

"Honestly, many of the things that changed my life were not very happy or uplifting."

She pointed to the red and white painting. "You seemed to have put a lot of work into this one. Is there a specific reason for it?"

"Um, I'd prefer to keep that to myself. I'd rather the viewer come up with his own meanings and feelings for my work."

Jenna nodded, understanding. She pointed to the first and last paintings. "You used a lot more color in these, and they seem more light-hearted and happier than the others."

Justin smiled slightly, cocked his head. "They represent a few things that happened in the beginning of my senior year of high school, right when my life started changing drastically." Jenna nodded, eyebrows raised, eyes asking for clarification. Justin shrugged, he didn't mind let the reporter on this part of his life. "They represent the first year I met my partner, Brian Kinney."

"Brian Kinney….that name sounds familiar."

Justin stifled a laugh. "A lot of people have heard of him. He runs Kinnetic, an advertising firm."

"Yes! My brother's an entrepreneur in make up and anti-aging products. I think Kinnetic handled his ad campaign."

"That certainly sounds like a campaign Brian would snap up in a heartbeat."

"Okay, well, back to the questions. Why are you waiting two more months before showing these pieces?"

"Well, I have two more paintings in the works. When I finish them, they'll be shipped here from Pittsburgh."

"One more question. Why did you move back to Pittsburgh?"

"Because my inspiration was there. My friends and family are my inspiration. But more than that, Brian was there. He is one of my biggest inspirations, and after three years in the Big City without him, I felt like I needed to come home."

Jenna smiled and stood up, extending her hand. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Taylor."

Justin flashed her a sunshine smile and shook the offered hand. "Your welcome. Thank you for enjoying my art."

She left the studio. Justin stood up and stretched, running a hand through his hair. He wandered over to his paintings, running a gentle hand along the top of the abstract of a street, smiling softly. He cocked his head at the sound of the door jingling open and thudding closed.

"Hi." A familiar voice stated uncertainly. Justin whipped all the way around, nearly losing his balance.

"Ethan? What the fuck are you doing here?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin has a conversation. Ted comforts Michael. Brian gets an early-morning phone call.

Ethan made his way slowly down the stairs, stopping nervously every time he took a step. He made a small noise in his throat, reached out as if he was approaching a frightened animal. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he just stopped, hands at his sides. He cleared his throat, glancing at Justin through his lashes.

"I heard you were living in New York. And you'd had shows. I thought- I thought that since you were living here, you and Brian had….and….we could give it another try?" His voice lifted hopefully at the end. Justin just stared at him, surprised and wide-eyed.

Ethan took another step forward, swallowed audibly. The movement seemed to shake Justin out of his stupor, and he straightened up, his face suddenly hard, eyes angry.

"I already told you, I love Brian. I don't want to be with you again. Brian and I are still together. I'm living in Pittsburgh again. I'm only here because I have interviews. Now, I need to go and eat something and sleep so I can get up in time for my interview tomorrow. It's already almost midnight, I need to go."

"But, cant we get something to eat together, talk?"

"No. I don't want to talk to you. Being with you made me realize how much I loved Brian. It made me realize that romance is bullshit, just like Brian said. Anyway, you have your music, don't you?"

"I-"

"No, Ethan," Ethan flinched when Justin spat his name. "I don't want anything to do with you. Now I'm going back to my hotel. You go back from wherever you came from." Justin picked up a tarp from the floor forcefully and flung it over his canvases, then he grabbed his bag from beside the chair and brushed past a stunned-looking Ethan without a glance.

Michael rolled over, blinking and groaning, then jerked back onto the sofa before he could fall onto the floor. He scrubbed his hands over his face, stretching the kinks out of his back. "Shit," he muttered to himself. What was it with him and the strange gravitational pull to Ted's couch? He heard clattering in the kitchen behind him, and glanced over the back of the couch to see Blake, blinking awake and making a pot of coffee. He glanced towards the living room, and, seeing Michael, gave him a small smile.

"Hey. Want some coffee? How did you sleep?"

"Sure. And as well as I can on someone else's couch at my age." Blake gave him a little chuckle and walked over, handing him a mug of coffee. Michael blew on the black liquid and took a sip. "Thanks for letting me crash here, by the way."

"Any time, Michael." Ted's voice came from the doorway, where he stood in pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He pecked Blake on the cheek and took the mug from him, before joining Michael on the couch. Blake looked at them, and seemed to decide that it was a good idea to start folding the laundry in the bedroom about now.

"So, do you want to talk about it, now?" Ted's voice was soft, but probing. Michael looked at him reluctantly. Ted counted to ten in his head. Michael sighed and dropped his head toward his chest, picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow.

"Brian was right."

"Not the first time. Anyway, that's bad, how? He's right about a lot of things. I didn't know it could make you sleep on my couch, especially since you two haven't spoken to each other in a few weeks."

"He was right about Ben." Ted raised his eyebrows for clarification. It was such a Brian-like move that Michael almost wanted to laugh. The things that rubbed off on you. "He told me that Ben was using again. I said he wasn't. He acted like an asshole, so I acted like an asshole back. But he was right."

"As if that stopped you two before. Don't you two always fight and make up over and over again? Talk to him. Call him, go see him, whatever. Apologize."

Michael nodded. "Okay. I guess."

Ted gave Michael a one-armed squeeze. "There you go. Didn't I tell you before, coming to Momma's will always make it better." Mike gave him a small grin, shoving him lightly.

Brian lay sprawled across his sofa, his legs over the back, his head dangling upside down. He took in a last lungful of smoke from his joint, then let it out in a long, slow stream. His cell phone rang. He kicked at it and it fell off the arm of the couch and clattered under the sofa. The ringing stopped. Brian reached over and stubbed out his joint, grabbed a Beam and took a swig directly from the bottle. His house phone started to ring. He stood up too fast, and paused for a moment, holding his head while the dizzy head rush passed. He made his way to the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Brian, it's Lindsay. Debbie told me about your mother. I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

Brian suddenly realized that he really shouldn't have answered the phone. "I'm fabulous. Just peachy, thanks. Now can I get back to what I was doing before you called?"

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Lindsay, I'm fine. Joan was a cunt, and Jack was a bastard. They're both gone and in hell where they should be, and I'm fine. I don't need anything. Can I go now?"

She sighed. "Okay, but call if you need anything."

"Uh huh. Bye." He dropped the phone back into its cradle and tripped back to the couch, letting himself fall on the welcoming white pillows. His cell phone rang again, and he stretched himself into a contortionist position and retrieved it from the floor. He looked at the caller ID. It was Michael. He let it go to voicemail. Then he turned it to silent and stuck it back under the sofa.

He lit his fifth joint of the day and grabbed the bottle as he wandered over to stand in front of the big windows of his loft. He stared distantly out at the street below. When he realized it had gotten dark without his noticing, he went into the bedroom and pulled off his clothes. He got in bed, and fell asleep, even though the clock said it was only six thirty.

Justin kicked angrily at the snow on the sidewalk as he headed down the street. What the fuck was Ethan doing here? He didn't want anything to do with the kid. He didn't want to go back to anyone who cheated, and he didn't love him anyway. His one little indiscretion from years ago had only helped to reinforce his love for Brian. And now this happens. Fuck. He dropped his head back towards the sky and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Justin heard the thud to the side of his head before he felt it. His first thought was "What the fuck it Hobbes doing in New York?" Then he felt a blow to his ribs, and his brain snapped from the past. A boot kicked at his shin. Before he could run or fight back, his foot slipped on a patch of ice and he landed hard on his tailbone on the cold cement. Rough hands hit his body, shoving him and grabbed at his clothes. He felt hands searching him, finding his wallet, which had about a hundred dollars and his old PIFA ID in it. He knew better than to carry a card while in the part of New York he was. Hands snatched the cash and dropped the wallet onto the snow beside him. One person moved away from him, stepping on his left hand. He heard them going through his bag, and opened his mouth to tell them not to ruin his sketchbooks and pens, but a kick to his stomach turned the plea on his lips into a groan of pain. Justin felt blood trickling down his face, wondered idly if it was from his head or his nose. He felt something brush past him and flinched, heard rough voices talking, but he couldn't understand. His face hurt. His hand hurt. Everything hurt. Someone had the decency to kick him in the head and he sank a little too willingly into darkness as footsteps pounded away.

Ethan hung his head for a moment. He hadn't realized until now just how much he had hurt Justin. He hadn't known Brian Kinney when he and Justin had been together, but afterwards he had put bits and pieces together from his friends in the gay community and at PIFA. He knew that Kinney rarely lied, that he was a cynical bastard, that he'd had a "love 'em and leave 'em" philosophy before Justin had come along. Everyone seemed to think that they were inseparable, that though they would break up and get back together countless times, they wouldn't never really stay apart. So when he'd heard that Justin was living in New York, he'd finally felt hope. Unfortunately, he was touring Europe at the time. But he made plans to get to New York as soon as possible. But now, his plans had backfired in the worst way possible.

He hadn't known Brian Kinney when he and Justin were together, but after, he put bits and pieces together from his friends in the gay community and at PIFA. He knew that Kinney never lied, and that he was a cynical asshole, and that he'd had a "love 'em and leave 'em" philosophy before Justin came along. Everyone said that Justin had changed everything. They were all convinced that Justin and Brian were inseparable, that even if they broke up and got back together countless times, they would never stop loving each other. Ethan knew now that his hopes were dashed.

He realized suddenly that he was still standing alone in the middle of Justin's studio. He glanced over at the canvases Justin had covered with a tarp, and looked around to make sure no one was nearby. Tentatively, he stepped over to the canvases and lifted the tarp gently off them. He stared. Justin was a better artist than he had ever realized. He really did deserve to be in New York. He inspected the canvases carefully. There was only one he recognized, an abstract of a street that he was not very familiar with, but he knew that Justin had it memorized. Liberty Avenue was a hard place to forget.

Ethan gazed once more at Justin's work, then covered it again with the tarp and left. He walked slowly, his head down, lost in thought. An unfamiliar noise pulled him into awareness. It sounded like someone was moaning. He rounded the corner and his heart caught in his throat.

"Justin! Justin? Shit." He scrambled for his phone, dialed 911, told the dispatch lady where he was, pocketed the phone again. Justin was curled in a ball in the snow, both arms over his stomach, nose bloody, moaning. Ethan couldn't tell if he was conscious or not, his eyes were closed and he wouldn't respond to his voice. He felt pathetic, uncertain of what to do, so he just sat there stroking Justin's hair and making concerned noises in his throat. The paramedics seemed to take forever. Justin was shivering.

When the paramedics finally got there, they worked efficiently, loading Justin onto a stretcher and covering him with warm blankets. Ethan told them to wait, and dug Justin's cell phone out of his pocket. He turned it on and switched over to Justin's contacts. He paused for a moment when he passed 'Brian,' but went on until he found 'Mom.' He pressed sent and lifted the phone to his ear.

Three different noises were blaring into Brian's mind. Through the haze of sleep, he couldn't figure out what object in his loft could possibly make that much racket. His eyes opened and he recognized one sound as the alarm clock, which confused him greatly since it also told him that it was three in the morning. The second sound, he identified as his cell phone, which was vibrated against the hardwood floor. The third was his house phone, which was ringing and ringing. He groaned and stuffed his head under a pillow, let his message machine pick up. A voice cut through his fluffy barrier, and he frowned, moving the pillow off to hear what the voice had to say.

"Brian?" Jennifer sounded frantic. "Brian, please pick up. I tried your cell but your not answering. Please pick up. It's Justin."

Brian shot straight up in bed. He marched over to the phone and picked it up.

"Jennifer?"

"Brian! Thank god. It's Justin. He got mugged."

"Is he all right?"

"I don't know."

"Wait, I'm his emergency contact. Why didn't the hospital call me?"

"The hospital didn't call me, his ex Ethan did."

"Oh." Brian's voice was flat. "Well, you have his information. You can call the hospital and give it to them."

"Brian?" But Brian had already hung up. His ears were filled with white noise. He felt emotions and sensations prickle under his skin. His brain felt numb. He swiped his cell off the floor and turned it all the way off, tossing it onto the sofa. Then he unplugged the phone. He made his way back to the bedroom, turned off the alarm clock, and got back into bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin goes home from the hospital. Lindsay and Gus have a conversation. Michael confronts Ben. Brian creates another one of his infamous "cliffs."

Justin groaned. His face hurt. His body hurt. Why did everything hurt? Where the fuck was he? He heard someone say his name gently, felt a hand stroking his hair. He turned his head and tried to look to see who it was, but the light stabbed his eyes and he squeezed them shut tight again.

"Justin? Honey?" Honey? Brian never called him honey. Who was that? "Sweetheart?" The voice finally registered in his brain.

"Mom?" He heard his mother's gasping laugh of relief.

"Justin, sweetheart, you're in the hospital. You were mugged." Oh yeah, that's why everything hurt. He remembered now. Ethan had been there. He opened his eyes. This time the light didn't hurt as much. He squinted around.

"Where's Ethan?"

"He called me. He stayed until they made sure you were okay. He told me to tell you that he…" She gave a bewildered look, squinted to remember what she'd been told. "Understands now and he isn't going to try anymore and that he's leaving."

Justin tried to nod, but it hurt his head, so he just let out a puff of air. "Good. Where's…." He really didn't want to ask this question. "Where's Brian?"

"I don't know. I called him, and told him that you got hurt, but he hung up on me. I don't know if he's coming or not. When he talked, he seemed….flat. He sounded like nothing."

"Why? What did you say?"

"He wondered why the hospital hadn't called him since he's your emergency contact. I told him that they hadn't called me, that Ethan did." Shit. Justin groaned and ran his right hand over his face. His left one was in a cast.

"Fuck. Okay. When do I get out of here?"

"I don't know. I'll get the doctor and tell him you're awake and ask him about it."

"Thanks." Justin leaned back into the pillows and watched his mom leave the room. He wished Brian was here. He wondered if he would even come visit. He knew they both hated hospital, Brian sometimes more than him. He wondered, too, if there was another reason that Brian had not called or told his mom he was going to visit.

* * *

Michael lay on his stomach on the couch, a box of pretzels on the floor next to him, his nose stuck in a comic book. He'd been stressed all week, worrying about Ben, trying to talk to Brian, working on Rage. He'd decided it was time to wind down. He had a whole stack of comic books to go through, and a third of it was already finished.

The door opened and shut softly, and Ben walked through the living room and into the kitchen, shedding briefcase and jacket and scarf as he went. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on the edge of the couch near Michael's feet.

"Hey. Where'd you go last night? I missed you."

Michael closed his eyes for a second. He'd wanted to relax today. He really didn't want to be having this conversation. He could already feel the sad sort of resignation and betrayal bubbling in his gut. He kept his sentence short. "To Ted's."

"Oh. How is he? I heard Blake is living with him now." Anger suddenly replaced the sadness.

"We need to talk." The hardness in his voice surprised Michael. Ben closed his mouth and looked at him, a little taken aback. "Brian told me something a few weeks ago that I should have known was true. Instead, I called him a liar because I listened to what you said. But last night, I found out that he wasn't the one who had lied."

"Michael, I-"

"Don't say you don't know what I'm talking about and don't say you're sorry. We both know neither of those things are true right now." Michael took a breath and words that he hadn't even tried to prepare tumbled out in that same hard voice. "So here's what we're going to do. I'm going to stay over at my mother's for a few days. You're going to stop using that shit. When I get back here, we'll figure out where to go from there." He stood up and went upstairs, packing a backpack, feeling oddly calm. When he walked out the front door, Ben was still sitting silent on the couch, staring at the wall.

* * *

Lindsay rolled her eyes as she hauled a squalling Gus out of his third-grade classroom and into the bitter cold. She was glad she'd left JR asleep in the car seat instead of taking her outside.

"Mommy! It's freezing! Why is it so cold at the end of February? It wasn't this cold back in America!" Lindsay sighed and stayed silent through the whining. She seriously doubted that Gus could remember February in the United States, since he'd barely been five years old when they left. He clambered into the back of the car. She looked at him in the rearview mirror.

Gus looked like a miniature version of Brian. He had grown fast, and was becoming tall and thin like Brian. He had Brian's large, hazel eyes; luckily, Gus's eyes did not look wise and worn beyond his years as his father's had. He had Brian's chestnut hair and tan complexion. Although, he did have Lindsay's chin, and most definitely her blush.

Gus poked Jenny and she started crying. He shrank back in the seat and looked sheepish when his mother scolded him. Lindsay blew a heavy breath through her nose and hoped there wasn't any traffic. There wasn't, and she got home fast enough that JR wasn't even done hiccupping by the time they pulled into the driveway. She got out and opened the sliding door of the van to unbuckle JR's car seat. Gus started complaining about the cold again. She told him to please be quiet and dragged his whining body into the house by a resisting hand.

When he got inside, Gus sat down hard in the entryway as the door blew shut. He crossed his arms and glared up and Lindsay. Sometimes she wished she was a mind reader. Trying to school her features into something like patience, she softened her voice.

"What's wrong, Gus?"

The little boy drew his legs toward his chest and set his chin on them, looking a lot like his father. "I want to go home."

"You are home, Gus."

"No, Mommy. I want to go home to Daddy and Justin and Unca Mikey and Unca Ben and Gramma Deb and….Mommy, I want to go _home_!" he wailed the last sentence, his attempt at adult composure gone, his eyes overflowing with tears as Lindsay gathered him in her arms, her own heart filling with longing for her home in Pittsburgh.

"I know, Honey. I know. I do, too, Baby."

"Then why cant we?" Gus asked through his tears. Lindsay couldn't answer, didn't have answer. She wondered what to say to Melanie when she got home.

* * *

Brian's head screamed at him and he rubbed his temples for the hundredth time that day. He'd been snapping at people and threatening unemployment all day. Ted had come in once, then scurried away. He'd even snapped at Cynthia, who'd told him to fuck off and get the hell over his hangover. Good thing she had enough balls to call him out on things.

The door opened and Cynthia stood there with her hands on her hips. Brian opened his eyes and removed his head from his hands, staring at her. She cocked her head at him.

"Well? Are you done queening out? Can we get on with our jobs?" He waved a hand at her.

"Sure. I'll just be in here going over slogans for this piece of shit Mulligan's Hygienic Soap account. Christ." He rubbed his head again. Cynthia walked briskly over to his desk and pulled the papers away from him.

"Go home. Sleep off that fucking hangover. Fuck whoever you need to fuck or do whatever you need to do to come back here in a normal state. You're totally fucked up right now. So go home."

Brian sighed. He and Cynthia were nearly as stubborn as one another. And right now, he was too tired and in too much pain to argue with her. He picked up his coat and headed out.

* * *

The doctor poked and prodded at Justin. The blonde sighed and held still. He had spent enough time in a hospital to be completely used to all the procedures. When the doctor walked in, he'd promptly held up his right arm, ready for the blood pressure band to be wrapped around his bicep. The doctor had seemed surprised. Justin and his mother had shared a private smile of dark amusement.

"Your concussion is mild. Thankfully, it was on the opposite side of your head from your previous brain injury, and we're fairly certain there's been no permanent damage. You have a few broken ribs, but all we can do for that is wrap your chest and wait. Everything else is pretty much just bumps and bruises."

"What about my hand? Is it broken?"

"No, it's not. You've got some torn ligaments and bruised bones, but nothing's broken. We put it in a cast because you were clenching and unclenching your hand while you were unconscious, and we didn't want you to damage it more than it already was. If you would like, we can remove the plaster cast and replace it with a removable plastic brace before you leave."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"When can he leave?"

"Well, he seems to be just fine, besides the broken ribs and knock to the head. So, this afternoon, probably."

"Thanks." Justin flashed a Sunshine smile. For once, he could get out of a hospital fast, and not have to sit around and wait. For New York, that was awesome.

* * *

Two days later, Justin was home in Pittsburgh, watching TV and eating Pringles on his mother's couch. He was allowing her to mother him, partly because he missed it, and partly because he had no idea what Brian's temperament was like and he was a bit apprehensive about going over.

After another tube of Pringle and a whole box of Oreos, Justin decided to take the risk. He knew he'd be restless and bitchy in about a day if his mother kept this up, and it would be much better living at the loft, since Brian didn't try to do everything for him when he was hurt. He put on some clean clothes, told his mom he was going out and would have his cell phone with him.

He took a cab to the loft, since the doctor had told him not to drive for a week, just as a precaution to the concussion. He got out and punched in the familiar number to Brian's building, bounding up the stairs. He knocked on the door and waited.

The door slid open and Brian blinked at him. Justin had an incredibly strong sense of déjà vu, thought back to when he was eighteen and had been bashed. He felt eighteen all over again, gave the same nervous smile.

"Hi." Brian just kept staring, so Justin pushed his way inside. This time, Brian didn't put a hand on his chest and stop him. Justin went to the fridge, grabbed a beer he knew would be in there. "My mom has been fawning over me for the past two days. I'm sick of it. If I go to Deb's, she does the same thing. So I'm staying here."

Brian nodded, gave him a small kiss hello, and went back to his computer where he had been working before Justin had arrived. Justin stood in the middle of the room, feeling strange and abandoned in his own home.

* * *

It was just like last time; Justin injured and nervous, standing outside his door, pushing his way inside and saying he's going to stay. Only this time, Brian wasn't going to let that happen. He hid the fact that he knew that Justin had been with Ethan, because he didn't know if Justin knew he knew. Just thinking that sentence tired him out, and he decided that this time he'd get rid of the twink as quickly as possible. He turned back to his work and ignored Justin, engrossing himself in his job. When he looked up, the twink was asleep on the bed in his favorite pair of Brian's sweats and an old t-shirt. Brian took a moment to admire the pale blonde body against the blue sheets, then shook his head and began to devise a plan to get him the hell out before Justin could hurt him again.

"So, I'm still living here, right?" Justin asked, draping himself over Brian's shoulder. It had been three days since Justin had come, and he was still there. They had fucked twice.

"Obviously," Brian replied, reciprocating the offered kiss.

"Good." Brian watched over his computer as Justin sauntered back to the couch and plopped down with his sketchbook, shaking out his still-healing left hand before using it to hold the sketchbook up.

Brian hated to see Justin hurt. Once had been enough, and that had almost killed both of them. He wondered how many more times he'd have to witness Justin getting injured. Justin alone had been through more in twenty-five years than most men had in a lifetime.

The other thing Brian hated, was knowing that Justin had hurt him, betrayed him. He didn't want this to keep going. Justin had left him three times before- four if he counted the time he'd almost stayed in California- it was no surprise that he'd do it again in a heartbeat. But this time if Justin was going to leave, it would be because Brian wanted him to.

Justin had been living at the loft for nearly two weeks, He and Brian were lounging around the house on a Saturday. Brian was sitting on a floor pillow, watching The Godfather on television, and Justin was attempting to read The Fountainhead, but kept get distracted by his sketchbook and new ideas.

Brian looked up during a commercial. "I'm selling it."

"Huh? Selling what?"

"The house."

"'The house'….Britin?" Brian nodded. Justin frowned. "Why?"

"Well, it just sits there. Do you really think I'm going to keep an enormous piece of real estate that I don't use? It sucks money out of my wallet every month."

"It's not like you don't have enough money to pay for it." Justin stood, moved to stand frowning down at Brian, trying to understand. "And, you bought that place for me, for us, why would you sell it now?"

"Because I don't use and I don't need it. I bought it three years ago for a reason that no longer matters."

"Brian…..the house was a promise. It meant us."

Brian scoffed. "No, it meant that I had gone temporarily insane and wanted to become a stepford fag. So glad I was cured."

"I thought you said we were together, we didn't need rings or vows."

"Or houses. And I think I was temporarily insane when I said that, too. Because apparently that's what you need. So go back to the orchestral genius who gives you what you want. I don't give a shit. Anyway, you get a bonus. You can stay in New York _and_ get a boyfriend. Anyway, I'm still selling the house." The commercials were over. He turned his attention back to the television.

"Brian, what-" But Brian had shut down. "Fine. You do whatever you want. Who cares what I want. Of course." Justin spat. "Well, since I'm in control of my own life, I guess I'll leave you to your own _pathetic_ existence. Fuck you, Brian. Fuck you." Justin turned on his heel and grabbed his sketchbook and coat, slamming the loft door behind him.

Brian let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. That was over with. Justin could go back to Ian or Isaac or what ever the fuck his name was and Brian could go back to his life. Someone else would have to care for the twink while he was injured, this time it wouldn't be Brian.

He stared at the television screen, but he didn't really see what was in front of him. A feeling he hadn't known for six years formed inside of him, surprising him. He ignored it, pushed it away and focused on the movie. But it came back, so he just let it sit there, refusing to acknowledge it, refusing to let it grow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian refuses Michael's apology. Justin, Carl and Emmett talk about the way Brian was after Justin left for NY. Brian misses Justin, and Debbie gives him advice in the way only she can.

It had been just over a week since Justin had walked out of Brian's loft and knocked on Daphne's door. She had taken him in, just like last time, and was perfectly okay with him living there. "It's not like I have your sort of sex life," she'd said.

So Justin was spending his days painting out his frustration in his studio and working in the diner. It was easier than he thought it would be not to think about Brian, because whenever he did, a tangle of emotions rose in his throat, and he didn't want to deal with them, not now.

Justin stared at his canvas, scratching at a scab above his left eye. He was tired of this, tired of Brian pushing him away, of having to constantly battle his stubborn will and his fucked up brain. He was tired of having to reassure Brian and regain his trust. He slashed a line of green across the canvas, stared at the painting hard, and decided to trash it.

* * *

The phone rang. Brian glanced at the caller ID, scoffed, and picked it up.

"What?" he was already annoyed. He didn't think this conversation was bound to make his mood any better.

"Brian?"

"Who else?"

He heard Michael pause, frightened, uncertain. "I want to apologize for what I said about you and Justin. I was pissed and it was stupid. And you were right. I'm sorry."

"Come on, Michael, you know it, I've told you a million times, sorry's bullshit. And I don't need your sympathy. As you said years ago, the Brian and Mikey show is over. Now, I need to work." He hung up and went back to his computer.

Michael called him four more times and he didn't answer. Finally he turned his cell phone off and unplugged his landline.

* * *

Michael unlocked the door to his house. He was glad to be back. His mother had pestered him nonstop while he was there. She'd even convinced him to try to apologize to Brian, which, of course, hadn't gone over too well when he'd tried.

Living with his mother and Carl and Emmett was hectic and insane, and he was glad to be back in the peaceful sanctuary of his home. _Well, sort of peaceful_ , he thought. Hunter looked up at him from the couch and grunted a hello. Michael gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder as he walked past.

He headed upstairs to unpack his backpack, wincing a little when he passed the bathroom where all this had begun. He opened the door to the bedroom to find Ben lying on the bed, reading a book. He looked at him for a moment before turning his back and opening the dresser, shoving his clothes back inside.

"Michael…" Ben started, but Michael ignored him and continued hanging clothes in the closet. "Michael…I'm sorry. I'm so…fucking sorry."

Michael turned and leaned against the doorjamb. "You stopped." It wasn't a question. Ben nodded. "I don't know if I can trust you any more, Ben. We have a child- children. Think about what this might do to them first. Then think about yourself. I'm not Brian. I give a shit about what happens to the people I love. Even you. Especially you. But if you're gonna keep fucking up…"

"Michael, I don't know what you want me to do." Ben reached for his lover, but Michael pulled away.

"I want you to quit using that shit. I want you to stop thinking like you're gonna die and live in the moment like you're always telling me. I want you to stop being a stupid bastard and start caring about your health. I want you to not freak out every time someone you know dies. I want you to know that I love you, but this, this will hurt us. I want you to fucking understand."

"I've stopped, Michael. And….I'll try hard to do what you ask. I love you. I don't want to hurt us. Please, stay here. Stay home."

Michael sat down on the bed. Ben slid his arms around him and Michael tensed momentarily before relaxing and allowing Ben to kiss him.

* * *

Brian sighed, his exhalation pushing out his lungful of smoke as he stared up at the dimly lit ceiling. He wondered vaguely if maybe it would be fun to go up and jump off the roof, but then he realized he was drunk and stoned and getting extremely maudlin and told himself to snap out of it, Kinney.

He got up and snagged another joint on the way to stand at the window, staring out at the city. Three AM had come and gone, and the world outside the loft's window was silent. The loft was silent. Brian's company was the slow, soft ticking of the clock on his dresser. He wasn't used to the loft being this quiet any more. Seven months, and he'd already forgotten the silence he'd endured the three years Justin had been in New York, craving the feeling of the golden hair, his laugh. And now it was back. But Brian could cover it up, because the anger was still simmering in his stomach and he could use that to conceal how lost he felt. But still….

A knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts and he stubbed out the blunt, plodding over to the door and sliding it open. He blinked and let the blonde in.

"Good enough?"

"Sure. Whatever." He pulled the bills out of his pocket and shoved them into the trick's hand. "Bedroom's through there. Make yourself comfortable, or whatever."

The trick paused for a moment at the step up to the bedroom, taking look around the loft. Most tricks took one look at the apartment and practically came, instead saying "Nice place" and _really_ meaning it. But this trick just shrugged and headed up to the bed, sitting on the side and untying his shoes.

He grabbed a bottle of Beam and took a quick swallow, replacing the burning in his gut with another sort of burn. He glanced at the clock. Five thirty AM. Christ. He regained his composure and stepped into the bedroom, watched appreciatively as the trick tugged off his jeans and slid back on the bed.

"Roll over," he told the guy, who silently did as he was told. He positioned himself over the trick, who put his head in his arms. Brian stared down at the pale back, took in the hair that was blonde enough, but not long enough. He shook his head and slid the condom on, slicking himself up and then prepare the trick. He pushed in, and the heat was unfamiliar, but he ignored it, imagined, pretended. He blanked out his mind and just focused on the pleasure, because there was nothing else to do.

He came, pulled out of the trick roughly, tying the condom off and tossing it in the general direction of the bathroom. He stood up and wandered back over to the window where he had been standing when the trick had knocked.

"Get lost," he barked over his shoulder, barely turning around as he lit another cigarette. He heard the shuffling of the trick putting on his clothes, the slide of the door opening, closing. He sighed.

* * *

Justin sat at Debbie's kitchen table, his head in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms into his tired eyes.

"He's pushing me away again, Emmett. I don't know what's going on and this time, I don't know what to do."

"I know." He gave Justin an empathetic pat on the shoulder. "He's pushing everyone away, Baby. If any of us try to talk to him, he just ignores us. He just orders Ted around at work. He won't even talk to Cynthia."

The front door opened and Carl walked in. He nodded to the pair as he passed them to open the refrigerator and get out sandwich fixings.

"What the hell is up with him? What's he so freaked out about?"

"He thinks you're leaving him again, Justin. You told me you saw Ethan the night you were mugged. You told me that he was the one who called your mother. He probably found out. You know that Ethan gave you things that Brian never will. He's afraid you'll go back to that. He was a complete mess after you left for New York."

"Whenever I talked to him, he seemed fine."

"Justin, everyone knows that Brian's words never mean much."

Justin nodded. "What was he like, then? We barely got to see each other the first year, and after that, we didn't even bother."

"He was different after." Carl joined their conversation. "I don't really know Kinney well, but he seemed….altered. You know, not his usual self."

"Honey, he was a basket case! I swear we didn't see him outside his loft, other than Kinnetic of course, for nearly a month. He was pissier than usual and no one could talk to him without him queening out. He was drinking himself half to death. No one wanted to call you because, well, no one knew if you guys had ended on good terms or not. All we knew was that he as completely fucked up and he missed you like crazy. He never said it in so many words, but you could tell."

"And Deb was always over at his loft," Carl told him, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. "She'd come back here looking really worried and sad. She said he would barely talk."

"And he never tricked with blondes. Ever. At least, not in Babylon or Woody's. He barely talked to any of us. He always said he had something to do if we invited him somewhere, but Michael would call his landline and he'd pick up. We never really mentioned it to him, though. And, well, he wouldn't talk about you. If he heard your name, he'd flinch and look the other way and stuff or get really pissed off and leave or queen out. Ted said he fired more people in the half a year after you left than he had since Kinnetic had opened.

"And, God, he was cranky! And then he was just plain sad, I think. I drove him home one night when Michael was out with Ben. And he was flying really high, and I think he'd had more than his fair share of drinks, because when I started the car he just started talking. He started telling me about how the wedding was a mistake and maybe you didn't love him any more. And he was worrying about you having nightmares in New York. And he kept saying stuff about not wanting to lose you again, but you were already gone, that he had no idea what he was going to do now. And that he knew that loving someone and letting someone in was a bad idea and he should have expected it. He wouldn't shut up so I turned the radio on and some old song came on and he freaked. He punched the radio of my car so hard it broke. So I turned it off and then he just sat there with this blank look in his eyes. And I'm sure he didn't remember a word of what he said to me, but still….

"Baby, he was falling apart. I don't know what he was like in private, when he was all by himself in the loft or Kinnetic or wherever, but judging from that car ride, I'm sure it wasn't good. Michael suggested therapy multiple times but Brian always brushed him, off."

"Christ." Justin buried his head in his arms on the table. Emmett stroked his hair. "Em, I cant keep losing his trust and then having to work to gain it again and again. And I'm just so _angry_ at him for assuming, for not trusting me. For pushing me away. I don't fucking know what to do."

"Think about it. Just think about whatever he said to you. Think about how this sort of thing has resolved it self over the other years. Just give it some thought." Justin nodded bleakly. "Now go to sleep. It's almost nine at night and I know you didn't sleep last night, even if I wasn't there. It shows on your face, Baby. Go upstairs. Get some rest."

Justin nodded and trudged upstairs to do as he was told. He lay in Michael's old bed and remembered the time's he and Brian had fucked in there that first year, when he was still living with Debbie. He fell asleep to the memory of Brian outside his window.

* * *

Debbie walked into Woody's, looked around, noted the all too familiar back hunched over the bar. She plopped down into the seat beside Brian.

"Hello, Little Boy Blue." He didn't even glance up.

"Fuck off, Deb."

She gave him a look. "When have I _ever_ fucked off when you told me to?"

Brian considered this and looked up at her. "Good point. So can we get this over with?"

She just looked at him for a minute, took in his rumpled hair and haggard face, clashing awkwardly with his pristine clothes.

"You should accept Michael's apology. He's been trying to say he's sorry for a while now, but you won't talk to him or accept it."

"Michael fucked up, Deb. I was right and he acted like an asshole. He said some stuff that pissed me off." He looked back to his glass and his voice lowered in resignation. "Although I guess it really doesn't matter anymore. He's an ass, and Justin isn't coming back. I should've…."

Debbie laid a hand on his arm, and he turned to her. She knew what he had been about to say.

She gazed at him, laid a gentle palm on his cheek. "Brian, did you ever think that maybe that Ethan kid just dropped by, that maybe Justin wasn't seeing him at all. Justin loves you. Did you ever think that he wasn't going to leave you?"

She knew that there had always been a scared, lonely, insecure little boy hidden beneath Brian's cocky exterior, and she knew that he expected everyone he loved to leave him because of that and because of his childhood, but the sad eyes that turned drunkenly toward her surprised even her.

"It doesn't work that way, Deb. Life doesn't work that way."

"He loves you, Brian. He came back from New York for you. Don't give up on him now."

"He left. That's all there is to it. He's left before, and he'd leave again if he was still around. But he's not coming back."

"He's not coming back because you're not letting him come back."

"Did I not say that?"

"No, you didn't. And he loves you, Brian. Why do you think he came back from New York? Why do you think he asked to stay with you after he came back? Why do you think he stayed all these years and through all your bull shit. Because he loves you. And much as you like to deny it, you love him too. But you can't fool him and you can't fool me. You're doing this because you love him and you think he's going to hurt you. But you're wrong. What will it take to make you understand that?"

Brian looked at her again. His eyes were blank and tired. He suddenly seemed very small to her. "I don't know, Deb. I don't know if I can. I don't know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie and Lindsay have a decision to make. Michael reacts badly and makes a big mistake. Brian has an unexpected visitor who shakes up his view of things.

Brian slammed the door of the Corvette closed and walked slowly toward the diner. He was uncertain as to whether he wanted to go in or not. He wasn't sure if he could stand seeing Justin right now. He wasn't even sure if he could stand to see Debbie, especially after their "conversation" the other night.

He glanced through the window as he passed, and stopped. He couldn't go in. He could see Justin bussing tables through the slats in the blinds. The young man looked exhausted. But Brian couldn't, wouldn't go in. The purple and yellowish bruises and the scabs on Justin's face were still visible. He watched Justin lean over a table and wince slightly, putting a hand to his ribs. Brian couldn't stand the sight of Justin injured, even bruised, not after all that had happened; the bashing, Pink Posse, the bombing, they'd all made it so hard for him to stand seeing Justin even remotely sick or in pain.

He grimaced at the fact that Justin had such an effect on him, even now, but he turned and got back in the car anyway. He didn't want to see those bruises. They made him feel sick, himself. He didn't bother with lunch, turned and went back to Kinnetic, ignoring Cynthia's confused look at why he'd been out for only five minutes.

He sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. Okay, he'd admit it, he missed Justin. It was just like six years ago, the last time he was with Ethan. Brian couldn't get his Sunshine out of his head. Every blonde head he saw, every trick he fucked, turned into Justin. But he couldn't stand the thought of Justin with someone else, being fucked by someone else, loving someone else. It hurt. And he didn't know if he could believe that Justin hadn't been seeing Ethan, that Ethan had just walked up to him in New York. Even with Justin, his nature just didn't allow him to be that trusting.

Why was it that whenever he tried not to get hurt, he ended up hurting more? Whenever he pushed Justin, or anyone, away for both his and their own good, he ended up hurting and tired and unable to sleep? Why did Justin have such a solid grip on him?

Cynthia came in quietly and placed a pile of papers to be reviewed on his desk. He nodded in her direction, thanked her mentally and pulled the pile to him, pushing Justin out of his mind and forgetting himself in work.

* * *

"What?" Melanie looked astonished.

Lindsay schooled her features into the same patient face she used with Gus. "I think we should move back to Pittsburgh. Gus keeps saying he wants to go back. I know that your old firm isn't as successful without you. Brian told me when I asked about things going on down there. And, frankly, I miss it too. Pittsburgh is my home."

"Yeah, home where we get yelled at and spit on every day."

"It's not much better here, Mel. Yeah, gay marriage is legal here. And we're both their legal guardians and parents. But Gus still gets made fun of at school for having two mommies. And when people at the gallery ask about my husband, and I tell them that I'm a lesbian, they still give me that self-righteous sneer that I got back home. The laws are different here, Mel, but the people aren't."

"Lindsay, we made a commitment. We have to stick to this."

"I know. But I'm sick of it. My job is awful, you're in still in school half the time, and the other half you're working at a job that's far beneath your experience and credentials. We've been here for almost four years, Mel, and it hasn't gotten any better. Nothing's really changed. I think it's time to go home."

Melanie opened her mouth, closed it again. Even though she was an excellent lawyer, she had absolutely no response to that, no rebuttal. She sighed. "Maybe you're right. At least it'll get everyone else off our backs to go back and visit. I'll think about it."

"Thanks, Mel." Lindsay gave her a quick kiss, then hurried off to attend to Gus, who had been calling her for the last few seconds.

Melanie stood there in the living room, considering Lindsay's suggestion. She, too, missed her home in Pittsburgh. But she also believed (ironically, she thought) in commitments, and keeping them. But Lindsay was right. It was harder living in Canada and having to start, quite literally, everything over again, than it was to be in Pittsburgh. She sighed and sank down on the couch to think about leaving.

She could hear Gus in the kitchen, talking to Lindsay. "Mommy! Did you ask Mama about if we can maybe kinda sorta go home? Did you?"

"Yes, Gus, I did." She heard Lindsay's soft reply.

"What did, what'd she say, Mommy? What did she say?"

"She said she'd think about it, okay, Gus? It's a big, grown-up decision and it takes a lot of time."

"Okay, Mommy." Melanie heard the rustling of paper. "Look what I drew! It's me, and you and Mama and Jenny and Daddy and Justin!"

"That's very good, sweetie."

* * *

Justin breezed into Debbie's house, plopping down on the couch beside Emmett. Daphne had to go and visit her dying grandmother in Minnesota, so Justin was temporarily staying on Debbie's couch. He felt like he was nineteen again, shuffling between houses with a duffle full of his stuff.

"Hey, Emmett." He put his feet up on the coffee table. "Watcha watching?"

"There's an I Love Lucy marathon going on, and what queer would want to miss that?"

"I can think of a few." Justin grinned and flapped a hand at him. "But, what the hell, I'll join you."

They laughed together at the antics of the characters onscreen, sharing a tub of ice cream. Soon, Michael clomped noisily into the house. Noting the extra guest on the couch, he rolled his eyes.

"You're here too? Jesus."

Justin rolled his eyes, annoyed, and took another spoonful of ice cream. "Don't worry. I'm living with Daphne. She's away right now so I'm staying here. I'll get my own place in a bit. Then I'll be out of your hair."

"Ah." Michael reached into the cupboard for some cereal. Justin could see that his eyes had taken on a sort of gleam, but he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Emmett handed him the ice cream carton and half turned to him, one eye still on Lucy and Ethel stuffing chocolates into their mouths and down their blouses. "So, Baby, what are you going to do, now?"

Justin glanced at Michael for a moment, then decided he really didn't give a damn what he heard. Michael couldn't really hurt him; for some reason he hadn't really grown up past the age of fourteen, and Justin knew now that his mindset and things were just bullshit whiny pouting, and who cares what he thought of him, especially now that he'd been to New York and back and survived? He rolled his eyes again as he caught Michael glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Not sure. If Brian quits being an ass, I guess I'm staying here. I might fly back to New York and do some gallery searching. I don't make my agent do all the work, you know.

"Good for you, Baby. Although I'm sure it isn't hard for you to find galleries that want your work."

"No, it isn't, but I like seeing them in person beforehand. And I like talking to the other artists. Plus, I need some excuse to visit the friends I've made in the Big Apple."

"Yeah, but what about Brian?"

"I dunno. If I try to talk to him, he shuts me out. I still need to think about what he said and what I want, you know? So for now, I'm just gonna sleep on it." Emmett seemed to get the idea that that was the end of the conversation (thank god for his observation skills!) and turned back to the television.

* * *

Emmett wondered for a moment just how much of Brian and Justin's relationship was like this- blind fumbling, improvisation, dancing around feelings and conversations until they forced themselves out in fights or fucking or something a little more tender. He wondered how much of it was Brian trying not to break and Justin trying not to break him.

Emmett watched Justin's expression out of the corner of his eye as he watched TV. He wondered how much of Brian Justin got to see that no one else did. He wondered what could have kept him with Brian besides the sex and stubbornness and wild untamed quality of Brian fucking Kinney. But then he remembered parties and get-togethers in the last eight years, and observing them together when they thought no one else was looking.

He remembered glimpsing the two of them during one Christmas at Debbie's- when the girls and Justin were both home- sitting on the couch, watching Gus play with his new toys. Everyone else was in the kitchen or outside, playing with Jenny and her new set of 200 Crayola sidewalk chalks. But Emmett had come inside for some tea and had glanced into the living room. Gus was sitting on the floor, playing with some new building toy he'd gotten. Brian and Justin sat on the couch, watching him. Brian's arm was around Justin's shoulders, holding him close. Justin had one hand on Brian's thigh, the other one playing with the fingers of hang on his shoulder. They were talking low, smiling. Justin said something that made Brian laugh, a low, throaty, comfortable laugh. Justin leaned up and kissed Brian's throat as he threw his head back. Brian squeezed Justin's shoulder gently, then they both turned and watched Gus again. Brian had a look of incredulity on his face, as if he was amazed that he had Justin and Gus together. There was a smile on his face that was open and happy, and a look of pure love in his eyes. Emmett paused for a moment to take in the gentle scene before him, before hurrying to the kitchen, pretending he saw nothing.

So, really, Emmett knew that nothing could keep them apart. There was something between them, some incredibly strong, powerful pull that had never broken, not through cheating or cancer or disagreements or even hundreds of miles away. He smiled to himself. He knew, whether Justin and Brian realized it or not, that despite what their friends said, despite what they and everyone else believed, Brian and Justin would never truly be apart. And it was only a matter of time before the pull brought them together, stronger than ever, just the way it had each and every time before.

* * *

Michael sat at the kitchen table, munching on a bowl of Cap'n Crunch Berries. He watched Emmett and Justin talking and laughing on the couch. He remembered when it used to be him and Brian on that couch, but now that wouldn't happen because Brian was right and he was an ass. But that wasn't right, that wasn't right at all. Because Michael was right, too. Brian and Justin never had a real relationship. They were never really together, they didn't live a normal life. What kind of relationship consisted of fucking and breaking up fifty million times?

A cell phone rang and Emmett jumped up. "Oh, that's me. Probably that crazy bridezilla calling again. They want an Asian wedding, all these crazy traditions. It's driving me nuts. Ta!" He hurried upstairs to answer the call and look through his datebook.

He sat there, staring at Justin, wishing he could make the kid disappear, or melt, or something. Justin felt Michael's eyes on the back of his head and turned around to stare back.

"What?"

Michael looked away first. "Nothing."

Justin gave him an annoyed raised eyebrow that he'd obviously learned from Brian and turned his attention back to the television.

Michael got up and hurried outside to his car. He wanted nothing to do with Justin, especially since he'd been right about him and Brian not having a relationship. He'd been fucking right, and Brian had just been an ass. What was his problem, anyway? Why the hell hadn't Brian helped him? They'd been friends for ages. Why hadn't Brian done what a best friend would do and been on his side about the whole goddamn thing? He got to his car and flipped open his cell phone.

"Yeah? Hello?" Brian obviously hadn't looked at his caller ID.

"You're a dick. Why did you let me get hurt that way? I was fucking right about you and Justin. You have no relationship, you just keep fucking and breaking up. That's not a relationship. Hell, I don't know what the fuck that is. Anyway, you should have helped me out, been on my side. It's always been that way. I was right about you, and you were just a complete jackass. You should have helped me. You're my best friend. Best friends help each other out."

"Michael." Brian's voice was cold, incredibly stark and commanding. And it was his full name. It made Michael shut up immediately. "I have been helping you for years. I've helped you since you were fourteen. I helped with your homework, rescued you, gave you money, got you out of whatever stupid-ass situation you got yourself in this week. I've saved you, helped you, given you money, gotten you dates. I think it's time someone else helped you for a change. Like Ben, or someone that really _loves_ you." He said the word like it was poison. "I'm done giving you help. I'm done. Goodbye."

The sudden silence on the line made Michael jerk back. Fuck. He snapped the phone shut, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as slamming a phone down on its cradle, so he threw it onto the passenger seat. Well, that was great. He sat in his car just staring for a long time. His husband was on drugs, his mother was pissed at him, and his best friend was no longer his best friend. He had no one to talk to, to open up to or complain about his problems or ask for advice. His life was fucked.

* * *

Melanie lay awake, listening to Lindsay's soft breathing beside her.

Move back to Pittsburgh.

It was a thought that was circling in her head. She didn't know whether to hold onto it tightly or let it go away. It was extremely tempting. It shouldnt be so alluring, but it was. Ad her tired mind just kept rolling it around. She missed her old house. She missed her friends, her family, even her job back in Pittsburgh. And unfortunately, Lindsay made a really good argument.

She heard JR calling "Mama?" softly and slipped out of bed before their daughter's cries could wake Lindsay. She padded into Jenny's room and sat down beside her bed.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Bad dream. Sing?"

"Sure. I'll sing to you. Just get nice and comfortable. Here's your bear." Jenny snuggled down into her blankets and clutched the blue teddy bear to her chest. Melanie ran a hand across Jenny's hair, soothing her, singing her a lullaby that her grandmother used to sing. She waited until JR's eyes had slipped closed and her breathing had evened out before stopping.

Then she just sat and watched her daughter's slumbering face. If they moved back to Pittsburgh, Jenny and Gus would both be near their daddies. She knew Gus missed Brian like crazy. And she knew Michael wanted to see JR a lot more, but he didn't have the money for so many plane rides. She might be able to get her job back, Lindsay could get something better. Maybe going back would be good.

She gave Jenny a soft kiss on her forehead and went back to her own bed, sliding in beside her wife. She closed her eyes, but sleep still didn't come. Move back to Pittsburgh. She watched it circle in her brain.

* * *

Brian lay sprawled on the floor, watching television. He had run out of weed and for once was not in the mood for Beam, so he was actually sober, which made watching television either extremely boring or extremely maudlin. As he stared at the screen, he kind of wondered why he was still lying there.

Someone knocked on his door and he ignored it, turning his attention back to the television. Another knock a few seconds later, and he lugged himself off the floor to answer the goddamn door. With a sigh, he dragged the slab of metal back. He immediately regretted the decision and wished to god some weed would fall on his doorstep right now.

"What do you want? Fuck off. He's not fucking here. You got what you wanted." He started to close the door, but a hand came up and stopped the sliding metal. That fucking fiddler was ridiculously persistent.

"Wait! That's…that's not why I'm here. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to cause all this trouble. I sought him out in New York. I just sort of showed up at his gallery. I surprised him. He told me that he still loved you, and that he had no feelings for me. I wasn't with him when he was hurt. He walked out of the gallery before me. I was hardly five minutes behind him. I found him on the ground and used his cell phone to call his mother. I didn't want to call you, because I didn't want you to think the wrong thing. I…I'm over Justin. I understand that he loves you. I just wanted you to know that he wasn't cheating on you. I….guess I should go now…"

Ethan turned and made his way slowly down the stairs. Brian sagged against the door frame and stared at his receding back. He felt drugged, punched, stunned. An ache spread through his chest, clogging his throat and clouding his eyes. Fuck. He had just made the biggest fucking mistake of his life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie makes a decision. Brian and Michael stop speaking. Justin gets good news and Debbie gives Brian needed advice.

"Okay," Melanie leaned against the doorjamb, watching Lindsay fold laundry.

"What?"

"Okay." She repeated. "I gave it a lot of thought. Let's move back to Pittsburgh." Lindsay gave her an amazed expression, blinked. She continued. "I know I've said before that moving back is like admitting we failed, and I hate that. But moving here was like admitting that those homophobes won. So, let's move back."

"Oh, Mel!" Lindsay dropped the socks she'd been holding and threw her arms around her wife's neck.

"We can call Justin's mom to look for a house. She's a realtor."

"Mommy?" Gus wandered into the room. Lindsay grinned at him, and Melanie smiled too. "Why are you so happy? What's going on?"

Lindsay crouched down and took him in her arms. "We're going home, baby!"

"Really? Are we Mama?"

Melanie leaned down and ruffled Gus's hair. "Yeah, we are, Gus." Gus shrieked with laughter and threw himself into Melanie's arms.

* * *

"Oh, Michael," Ben sing-songed gently, dangling a comic book in front of Michael's face, along with a bag of what looked to be donuts. "Look what I got for you."

It had only been a few days, but already things had calmed quite a bit in the Novotny-Bruckner household. It didn't mean that Michael wasn't still watching Ben closely, or that Ben wasn't still being extremely careful about going out, but things were better.

Michael grinned upside down at his husband and took the gifts. "Thanks." He gave Ben a kiss from his chair. "Dinner's in the kitchen if you want some. I had a feeling you'd be home late. There was a message on the machine alerting all faculty about the emergency meeting, whatever that is."

"Yeah. Bunch of stupid kids got it their heads to haze freshmen by making them live all their worst fears. You know, cages of rats or snakes or spiders or whatever. Sometimes I don't understand college kids."

"Christ, that's awful! Is everyone okay?"

"A few people had panic attacks and had to be sent to the hospital for oxygen and whatnot. Everyone's all right. The kids who started it are to be expelled in the morning."

"Good."

"Hey, from what I hear, you didn't have too wholesome of a childhood either. Although I'm sure most of that is Brian's fault." He chuckled gently.

"'Course it's Brian's fault. He's an asshole. Now can we please not talk about him? He's no longer a part of my life."

Ben nodded, frowning a bit, but conceded. "Yeah. Alright. What'd you make for dinner?"

"That caramel chicken stuff we liked."

"Yum."

Michael nodded as Ben wandered into the kitchen to grab a meal. He leaned his face in his hands and gently knocked his head against the monitor of his computer.

* * *

Justin slashed his brush across the canvas. He knew he was going to trash this painting when he was finished anyway, so it didn't really matter. Daphne was curled in a corner of the couch behind him, chattering away as he painted. For once, he didn't mind the noise. The painting was for shit, so now he was just letting his frustration out on the canvas in a swirl of dissonant colors.

Why didn't Brian trust him, even after all these years? Why did one little trip cost them everything? And why was always Ethan who fucked everything up? He streaked violet angrily across the upper left corner. He didn't understand why Brian couldn't trust him, couldn't believe him. He knew that Ethan had been his biggest and worst indiscretion and had preyed on Brian's insecurities and made them even bigger, but after all his apologies and promises, after all these years, Brian still couldn't believe him or see that Justin loved only him. He just didn't get it.

"Justin. Justin!" Daphne's voice sliced through his thoughts. "Are you even listening to me? You're not listening."

"Sorry, Daph. What?"

Daphne sighed, exasperated, abandoned the subject she had been going on about in favor for a more annoying, but infinitely more interesting one. "Are you going to talk to him?" Her voice was gentle. "You both seem so…depressed."

"You saw him?" He felt both betrayed and intrigued.

"He didn't come up to me or anything. I was walking home and I saw him on the street. He looked so listless. It just makes me sad that both of you aren't happy."

"I know. He just…I wish he could trust me. And I wish I knew that he really loved me." He held up his paintbrush to silence Daphne. "I know, I know. He does love me. I know he shows me with the little things he does. It's just…sometimes I wish the way he says it were bigger. Sometimes I wish he'd actually say the words. I don't know why I didn't get over this fucking thing years ago, but sometimes I still want it, y'know? Some childish seventeen year old part of me still wants the stupid romantic bullshit."

Daphne nodded. "I know."

* * *

"Hey, Ma." Michael slid into a booth with Ben. She gave him a little grin and a finger wave as she hurried back to pick up an order. He waved to Emmett and Ted sitting in the far corner and tuned back into what Ben was telling him about his newest lesson.

Emmett swirled a fry in ketchup and flipped to the next page in his magazine, gushing about the newest style to Ted, who was only half listening.

"So, Emmett, who do you think won the bet?" Ted asked conversationally.

"I don't know, Teddy. I think we both lost." He shook his head. "Plus, their relationship is hard to keep track of. How do you define 'breaking up' and 'getting back together' when they never defined it in the first place?"

"So, split it half and half? I give you twenty-five, you give me twenty-five?"

"Sure." They dug out their wallets and produced the money to each other.

"I guess it's kinda mean that we bet for their breakup instead of against it?" Emmett mused.

"Ah, no it isn't. If we weren't their friends, it would be. But, considering that we are, no. It's not." Emmett nodded, conceding.

"Fry?" Ted took the proffered French fry and grinned.

* * *

Justin's cell phone rang. He and Daphne both made a grab for it, battling each other, hoping it was Brian, but Justin got there first, nabbing it up with paint-smeared fingers and pressing Talk.

"'Lo?" he asked breathlessly.

"Hey, Sweetie!" Jennifer's voice tripped down the line. Justin mouthed 'Mom' to Daphne, who scrunched her face up in disappointment. "I have some good news!"

"You and Tucker are no longer married? Dad's in jail for something stupid? Molly's straight?" he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mom. What's the news?"

"Melanie called me today. She and Lindsay are planning to move back to Pittsburgh!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Melanie said I can tell you so you can tell the others. Unless you want me to do it."

"Tell Deb, she'll tell everyone else. Once she knows something, all of Liberty Avenue knows it."

"Okay, Hon. Well, talk to you later. Love you!"

"You too, Mom. Bye."

"What's up?" Daphne quirked a brow.

"Lind and Mel are moving back to the states."

"Oh, that's great!"

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "Maybe seeing Gus will get Brian out his lameass funk he's been in."

"Let's hope so."

Justin glanced at the clock. "Oh, shit. I gotta go. I promised Sydney Bloom I'd help out as his gallery this evening. He's getting ready for a big show and he needs someone to help organize and hang stuff. I guess I'm sort of a surrogate Lindsay. He'll be happy to know she's coming back."

"Can I come? Or at least hitch a ride down?"

"Sure." In the car, they fought over radio stations and giggled with delight when a Spice Girls song from forever ago came on.

"Seriously? This song was popular when I was in middle school. Why are they playing it now."

"It said oldies station, Daph. Although, I cant believe we've graduated from college and they still play the stupid shit that we liked when we were kids."

"It's nostalgic. And don't say you don't still love it. You know every word."

Justin laughed. "Yeah, I do."

"Ha!" she shoved at his shoulder and he shoved back.

* * *

Brian sat on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa. He took a drag from his joint, glanced at the other three lined up and ready to go on the coffee table, took a gulp of the beer between his crossed legs. A knock sounded at the door and he stubbed the blunt out, standing with a groan to answer it.

"Hey, Kiddo!" Debbie pushed her way past him, detouring to the kitchen to grab a couple forks before putting the dish down on the coffee table and turning to him expectantly.

"Do you have some sort of radar that alerts you whenever I'm alone and smoking weed?" His voice was harsh, but he sat down across from her, lit his next joint and passed it over.

"Ha." She chuckled a little at his sarcasm, drew a long hit. "You look like shit."

Debbie never was very subtle.

"Haven't slept much." It was the only thing he was going to offer, but he knew Deb would see right through him. Weed and tuna casserole always meant she'd see right through him and they'd talk about something profound and she'd give him good advice that he'd scoff at but follow anyway.

"You miss him, don't you?" Her voice was soft and sympathetic. Brian decided to just cut to the chase and spare her the annoyance of dragging it out of him.

"I fucked up, Deb. I really fucking fucked up. You were right. That goddamn fiddler came here and told me himself that Justin wasn't there to see him. He told me himself that Justin wasn't cheating or whatever." Deb looked at him, watched his tired eyes. "So what do you do to when you realize you made the biggest mistake of your pathetic, stupid goddamn life?"

She regarded him for a moment with an expression of utter motherly love and heaping helpings of sympathy. Then she covered his left hand with her own and looked into his eyes. "You go after him. He's gone after you more times than I can fucking count. He's come back over and over again. It's time you go after him. Go and get him. And let him know that you love him."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie and Lindsay tell Gus they're moving back. Michael and Ben have a conversation. Brian has a nightmare and so talks to Debbie and decides to make things right.

"Linds? Hey, Lindsay!" Melanie called into the apartment. Lindsay came in through the kitchen, phone to her ear, grinning. She waved hello, kissed Mel on the cheek and wandered into the living room, sitting down on the couch. Mel wandered in and stood behind her in time to catch the end of the conversation.

"That's wonderful! I'll tell her. Thank you ever so much. See you soon!" Melanie raised her eyebrows questioningly when her wife turned to look at her. Lindsay grinned. "Better start packing. Jennifer found a house not too far from where we used to live."

"That's wonderful, Honey! Better go tell Gus before he has bursts from anticipation. "

"Jennifer said the owners are ready to sell anytime. When's the earliest you think we can leave?"

"A few weeks, probably. I'll have to notify work and the goddamn school and Gus's school and things. Just tell Gus three weeks. It'll give us something to aim for." She smiled gently at her wife and Lindsay grinned.

Lindz headed up the stairs, a goofy elated grin on her face. "Oh, Gus," she sing-songed excitedly.

* * *

Brian slept through most of the day, which was unusual for many reasons. The first was that he rarely slept late, even on weekends. He'd get up early and then get stoned. The second was that after Debbie had left, he hadn't gotten drunk and passed out, or smoked any more weed. He'd watched a movie and then gone to bed. And third was that he was actually dreaming. Brian Kinney didn't usually dream unless he was under extreme duress or high out of his mind.

He kept dreaming about the bashing. He saw Justin grinning at him, turning and walking away. Then he was crumpled on the floor in his tuxedo, covered in blood. Brian ran toward him, screaming "No!" until his throat was hoarse, but Justin just laid there. And then the scene morphed, and Justin was standing there in a black turtleneck, beaten black and blue, fingers and palms bloody. Brian reached out to him, but a pair of hands -one holding a violin bow- appeared in the air and yanked Justin out of reach, ignoring the cries of pain each pull tore from the blonde's mouth. Then the scene changed once more and Justin was again crumpled on the ground, this time dirty and covered in ashes. Brian ran to him, pulling at his clothes, calling to him, but he didn't move. His body was heavy and cold. Someone covered him with a blanket and lifted him onto a stretcher. Brian wouldn't let go. Hands took the body away. He couldn't see the faces because he was staring at the blonde hair, dirty and matted beneath the blanket. He sank to the dirty, glass-strewn floor.

A cry tore from his throat, waking him up. Brian sat up. He was gasping, covered in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, clutching the pillow on Justin's side of the bed. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers from the pillow and sat there limply until his breathing returned to normal. Then he got up, splashed water on his face, put on a pair of jeans, grabbed a joint, and started pacing.

What the hell was he going to do to get Justin to come back? He wasn't used to going after people, it wasn't what Brian Kinney did. He wasn't used to solving things by talking. Talking. Maybe if he asked Justin if they could talk. God, he didn't want to talk. It meant opening up about shit he didn't want to think about. But, if it brought Justin back…

And Britin. He could keep Britin if Justin wanted him to, although he still didn't understand it. It may have held happy memories for Justin, but it only held sadness for Brian. It was the place Brian had proposed, but Justin had left him after that and they'd never gone to the house a second time. He hadn't been back there since the first time. He couldn't bear to go into that huge empty house.

He stopped pacing and lit another joint, then resumed his path. How the hell was he supposed to do this?

* * *

"Ben!" Michael slammed into the house with a grin on his face. Ben looked up from grading papers with raised eyebrows. Michael began talking, his words shoving against other to get out of his mouth, tumbling together. Ben held up his hands, a small smile on his face.

"Woah, Michael. Slow down. Take a breath. Say whatever you just said, again. Slowly."

Michael breathed in through his nose and let it out. "Mom called the store about an hour ago. She said Jennifer, Justin's mom, came over today. Jennifer told her that yesterday, Mel and Lindz called her looking for a house here in Pittsburgh. They're moving back to Pittsburgh!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes!"

"Michael, that's wonderful!"

"Hey, what's all the noise about?" Hunter stood at the top of the stairs. "You two are louder than my music."

Michael turned, grinning. "Mel and Lindsay are moving back to Pittsburgh! We get to see JR and Gus!"

"Awesome, man!" Hunter came down and gave his dads a hug, then retreated back to his room. Ben and Michael chuckled.

"Teenagers." Michael shook his head. Ben turned to him, his face a little more serious.

"I have some good news too, Michael." He took Michael's hands. "In order to make sure it never happens again, I'm joining a support group for recovering steroid users."

Michael looked into his eyes, then kissed Ben gently on the mouth. "Thank you." He said softly.

* * *

The phone rang. Debbie wiped her hands on her 'I keep all my best treats under my apron' apron, grumbling.

"Hold your fuckin' horses, I'm comin'." She muttered to the phone, even though the person on the other end couldn't hear her. She picked it up. "Yeah?"

"How?" His voice was flat.

"Brian…" She was confused. How what? She frowned. Suddenly, it dawned on her. He was continuing the conversation from night before. Stoned, of course. She suddenly felt sorry for him.

" _How_?" This time was more forceful.

"Honey, I can't tell you how to go after him. It's something you need to figure out yourself. He knows you love him, sweetie. He just needs to be reminded sometimes, that's all."

"I don't..." was a sigh that blew across the line.

"You can do it. You've done it before."

"Deb…" He sighed again. The weed was definitely having an effect. He couldn't even make a full sentence.

"Sober up, figure out what you're going to do, and go find him." A huff of exasperation came across the line, and she hung up, knowing that he'd follow her advice anyway, he usually did.

Debbie went back to her cooking with a frown. She felt so sad that her boys were having trouble again. And the fact that Justin knew how hard it was for Brian to say and not show his affection bothered her. She felt sorry for Brian for having to fight, for suffering without Justin again and again, for having to endure Justin leaving over and over. But she also felt sorry for Justin, for having a boyfriend who was so complicated, so emotionally stunted, so scarred on the inside. Debbie had a feeling that she and Vic were the only ones who really knew the whole Brian Kinney. And she was pretty sure that Vic had known him better than she had. After all, Vic had been the one that Brian had sat up with late at night and talked to. She hoped Brian would one day open up to Justin more than he'd opened up to her or Vic.

She hoped everything would work out.

* * *

Daphne bopped her head to the music as she and Justin sat on her couch watching Moulin Rouge. It was just one of those movies that queers with fag hags were obligated to watch with their hags over and over. So they did, singing along and laughing.

Justin's cell phone rang and pulled his attention away from the movie. He fished it out of his pocket, glanced at the Caller ID and stopped. His eyes flicked from the phone to Daphne and back. She was looking at him now, and seemed to realize from his apprehensive expression who it was.

"Go on, answer it." She paused the movie and stood up, moving toward her room. "I'll get out of your way." He smiled his thanks and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Justin." He heard Brian take a breath, the rough slide of skin as he ran a hand across his face. "I…Can we talk?"

"Uh…yeah?" Justin answered slowly.

"Meet me….meet me at Kinnetic in an hour. Everyone else will have gone home by then."

"Okay."

"Later, Justin."

"Later." He closed the phone slowly, a little confused. Daphne came out of hiding.

"Well?" Her face was eager. "What'd he want?"

"I'm not sure." Justin frowned. "I'm going to meet him at Kinnetic in about an hour."

"Want me to drive you?"

"Nah, I'll walk."

"Okay."

Brian paced in his office, uncertain of what to do or say. The few people who stayed on weekends were gone for the night, so he was alone. He made one more round of the perimeter of the room, then sat down at his desk, tapping a pen against the surface nervously. He sighed. Why did this freak him out so much? He had no idea what he was going to do or say, he only knew that if he didn't talk to Justin soon, he might lose him.

He heard a gentle knock on the glass door and looked up. Justin smiled uncertainly at him as he walked inside the office.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They waited awkwardly, the silence growing. Justin shifted from foot to foot as Brian tried to gather his courage to talk. Standing up, he came to lean against the side of his desk. He opened his mouth, stretching it as if testing its mobility.

"Justin, I…." He sighed. "I…didn't mean to mistrust you. Ethan…came to the loft and told me you weren't with him. I just, I just…I'm not used to, y'know, trusting people and letting them in."

"I know, Brian." Justin's voice was soft as he tried to understand.

"I fucking miss you. And I don't want you to go again. I think that words are bullshit, and actions show better how I think, but I know you believe in the power of words. So, I….I want you to know…that…" He took a breath. He hated to say those words, because he didn't truly believe in them, hadn't believed in them since he was a child running from parents who said they loved him. He exhaled, opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked at Justin, at the anticipation and hope in those blue eyes, and tried again. "I love you. You know I do. I love you."

Justin face broke into a smile. "Brian…"

Brian held up a hand. "Wait," he implored. "I…we can keep Britin, if you want. I just don't know what to do with it."

"Brian," Justin's voice was soft. He strode across the room and stopped in front of Brian. He cupped Brian's face in his hand. Brian automatically leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and savoring the warmth of Justin's palm. "Brian. You don't have to say it all the time. I just want to hear it every once it a while. I know you show it all the time, but you know me, hopeless romantic."

Brian gave a weak smile. "Twat." Justin smiled, knowing that the name was just another one of Brian's 'I love you's.' "What about the house? What do you want to do?"

"I don't need it, Brian. It's just a house. It may mean us, but it's not us. The loft has more memories of us than that house will ever have."

"But-"  
"I did a lot of thinking while I was at Daphne's. I didn't really notice it, but I guess I realized some things. And one is that I don't need a house to know how you feel about me. And that I know you trust me more than you've trusted almost anyone else in your life. That's enough for me."

"Sunshine?"

"Yeah?"

"You're so annoying."

"I love you, too, Brian."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin make up. Lindsay and Gus talk about moving back. Justin tells Brian about Mel and Linds. Brian has a revelation.

Brian grinned. "Okay, enough with the sentimentality. Can I fuck your brains out now?"

Justin laughed. God, Brian had missed that sound. "Yes. Here or at the loft?"

"How about both?"

"Mmmm." Justin reached up and pulled Brian's face to him, kissing him hard on the lips. Brian opened his mouth to him, wide, wanting, and Justin slipped his tongue inside, lapping at the roof of his mouth, savoring the jolt of electricity that always shot between them whenever they kissed.

Brian walked forward as they kissed, pressing Justin backward. They walked together until Justin felt the arm of the couch press against the back of his knees, and he let himself fall onto the cushions, pulling Brian down on top of him. Unbuttoning Brian's shirt, he kissed his lover's neck as Brian gripped the hem of Justin's shirt to tug it over his head. Once they were freed from the confines of their clothes, they pounced on each other.

Justin nipped at Brian's throat, scraping his teeth against his adam's apple, which elicited a moan. Sliding a hand in Justin's hair, Brian licked a line from Justin's pelvis to his chin, kissing his lips before slipping his tongue between them. Justin groaned and thrust up into him, so Brian ground down in retaliation. Soon they were both hard and panting.

Justin tangled his fingers in the short hair at the back of Brian's neck and tugged. "Fuck me, Brian. Please."

Brian groaned at the shuddering breath Justin blew past his ear and grabbed a condom and lube from under the couch cushion.

"I forgot that we put those there." Justin ground out between breaths. Brian just smiled, rolling the condom on. He pressed into Justin, who clutched at his shoulders and basked in the joyous burn and stretch, and paused, just staying there, still inside his lover, until Justin pushed back on him and muttered "Move!" between clenched teeth.

Brian moved, sliding slowly out until just the tip was inside Justin, before thrusting back in equally slowly. He kept up this maddeningly gently pace, slow and languid, with Justin squirming and moaning beneath him, a breathless stream of "Brian Brian Brian" pouring out of his mouth. He watched a bead of sweat roll down Justin's face and bent to lick it off, smirking at the grunt his lover made when the change in positions gave him greater pleasure. He watched his lover thrash beneath him at the torturous pleasure of his ministrations. Brian breathed in Justin's ear, sucking and tugging at the lobe. "Come for me," He whispered, voice rough.

"Fuck, Brian!" Justin groaned, thick white spurting between them. Brian felt Justin's walls clamp down on him, pulsing and twitching and grunted loudly, filling the condom as Justin's ass milked him dry. He flopped down on top of Justin and they just lay there, breathing, stuck together with Justin's come between them.

"Christ, Justin." Justin smiled and pulled him close, kissing him gently. Brian smiled and carded his fingers through the blonde hair he loved so much. They regarded each other contentedly for a few long moments, bodies heavy and sated.

"I should probably call Daphne." Justin said. "Tell her I'm not going back to her apartment tonight."

"Yeah, you probably should." Brian pushed himself up on his arms, allowing Justin to slide out from beneath him and cross the room to get his cell phone, which had been flung out of his pocket as his pants were flung to the other wall.

Justin dialed the familiar number and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Daphne answer. He could hear the anticipation in her voice.

"Hey, Daph. I'm not coming home tonight. I'll see you tomorrow." He couldn't stop grinning.

"You're telling me all about it over lunch tomorrow. Have fun!" And she hung up. Justin smiled, put his phone back in the pocket of his jeans, and walked back to Brian, who was standing and pulling on his shorts. He put his arms around Brian's neck.

"Let's go home." Brian gave him a predatory grin, but Justin could see the affection swimming in his eyes.

Inside her own apartment, Daphne grinned, sitting down on her couch and putting _Breakfast At Tiffany's_ in her DVD player.

* * *

"Hey, Mommy, when we go back to Pittsburgh, are we gonna have the same home we had before?" Gus stood beside Lindsay, who was cutting up carrots for dinner.

"Ah, no, Honey. Someone bought it when we moved here. But we'll be living in a house very close to it."

"Am I gonna hafta share a room with Jenny like here? 'Cause she's gettin' big."

"No, Gus, you won't. We can even paint your room whatever color you want. You can get Justin to help you paint. He helped Uncle Michael when he was painting his house."

"And Mommy, will I get to stay with Daddy and Justin sometimes?"

"If Daddy says it's okay, you will. I'm sure it will be fine with him. He misses you a whole bunch."

"I love you, Mommy. And Mama too. And Daddy, and Justin, and Jenny, and Uncle Michael, and Gramma Debbie, and-" Lindsay couldn't help but grin at the Justin-like rambling of her son.

"Yes, Gus, I know you do. Now why don't you go get your sister and then help Mama set the table."

"Okay."

* * *

Debbie's phone rang. She rolled her eyes and pulled herself away from the crime drama she was watching. Putting her Ben & Jerry's Phish Food container on the coffee table, she got up and answered.

"Novotny boarding house, bed and breakfast, and general hang out for lost and bored fags, how my I help you?"

"Hey, Debbie." Daphne's cheerful voice tripped down the line and Debbie grinned.

"Hey, Sugar! How's it going?" She snapped her gum and put a hand on her hip.

"Great! Deb, everything's going to be okay. Justin's not coming home to the apartment tonight. I could hear his smile through the phone." Debbie suppressed the urge to jump up and down.

"God, I hope they get it right this time."

"They will, Debbie. I'm pretty sure they will."

"Thanks, Hon, for telling me."

"No problem. See you later?"

"Sure. Bye now!" They hung up. Debbie sat back down on the couch and picked up her ice cream. She sighed happily as she thought about all the hardships those two had had to endure. She prayed silently that this one would be the last.

* * *

Justin waited until he was just inside the loft before turning and attacking Brian's mouth. Together they walked to the bed and collapsed down on it, peeling off each other's clothes, running hands and mouths and tongues on every patch of exposed skin. They groped and teasing and fingered until both were panting and moaning, on the verge of begging the other to stop teasing.

Brian tugged Justin to his knees and lapped at the back of his neck as he pushed inside. He fucked Justin hard, both of them grunting and holding on for dear life. Brian tangled his fingers in Justin's hair and tugged his head back, exposing his throat and attacking it, sucking and nipping and licking the white expanse of skin as Justin groaned and came. They fucked again, slower and more gentle, face to face, staring into each other's eyes. After a speedy nap and a shower that consisted of more making out than washing, they were on to another round. Justin lowered himself down onto Brian's cock, grimacing and panting with the effort to go slowly. He paused once Brian was all the way inside, and Brian sucked in a breath, trying not to buck up, to let Justin get used to the feeling.

"God, Brian." Justin choked out. "Fuck." He placed his hands on Brian's chest and pulled himself up and off before slamming back down. Brian groaned and snapped his hips up to meet Justin at the next downward thrust. He wrapped his fingers around Justin's cock, pumping him. He pressed hard against the tip, dipping a fingernail into the slit and Justin groaned loudly. Brian could feel the heat coiling in his belly, slowly moving toward his groan. He groaned, forcing "Sunshine" out in a gasp as he came, feeling hot drops of Justin's come on his chest.

They flopped down together in the bed. Brian disposed of the condom and opened his arms as Justin curled into him, resting his head on his neck. They sighed.

"That was fucking hot." Brian grinned, kissed Justin on the cheek. "Fantastic."

Justin smiled at him. "And it's good to fuck at home again."

"Mmm hmm."

Suddenly Justin shot up, smacking himself gently in the forehead with his palm. "Fuck!" Brian stared at him, eyebrows raised for clarification. "I forgot to tell you! Mel and Linds are moving back to the states. Isn't that awesome?"

"No shit." Brian couldn't suppress a smile at the idea of his son being around full-time. "I'll call the munchers tomorrow afternoon, see if they need help with anything."

Justin grinned and slung an arm over Brian's chest. "You're amazing."

"I know. I am."

"And so humble, too."

"Shut up, Sunshine. Go to sleep." Justin burrowed into Brian's side and soon they were both asleep.

* * *

Justin awoke to an incredibly nice morning blow job from Brian, then followed his lover into the shower where he reciprocated. They spent of the rest of the morning teasing each other shamelessly and trying to make breakfast. They ended up fucking on the kitchen floor and forgetting about breakfast, moving away to fucking against the pillar, then once more in the bed. Then Justin realized he had to get to the diner because he promised Daphne he was going to have lunch with her.

"Going to regale her with tales of our hot, romantic, incredibly orgasm-worthy reunion?" Brian asked. Justin just smiled and stuck out his tongue, to which Brian responded by slapping his ass as he exited the loft. He met up with Daphne and they entered the diner, waving hello to a smiling Debbie as they sat down.

"So," Daphne asked excitedly. "What happened?"

"Well, I got to Kinnetic and he was all nervous, which was totally weird. And then he told me that Ethan came to the loft to tell him that I wasn't cheating."

"No way!" She took a sip of coffee.

"Yeah. And then he sort-of apologized in the Brian sort of way and he told me he loved me." Justin chomped into his burger, counted to three.

"He—wait what? He said he loved you? Like the actual words?"

"Yeah." He responded around a mouthful "It was great. I felt like I was in high school all over again." He shook his head. "Wrong choice of words, but you know what I mean. And then he told me that we could keep the house—Britin if I wanted. But I don't want it. I don't need a house to know he loves me."

"You two are so confusing."

"I know, Daph. We confuse me, too."

* * *

Lindsay picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Linds."

"Brian!" her voice perked up.

"I heard you and the brood are moving back to the Pitts."

"Uh huh. Gus convinced us. He's so excited."

"When are you going to get here?" Brian silently hoped it would be soon.

"About two weeks. We gave ourselves a deadline. Well, we gave Gus a deadline. We already have a house picked out and bought and most things are packed. Gus has been bouncing off the walls in excitement. He cant wait to see his Daddy and Justin and Uncle Michael and everyone."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Not sure how well Uncle Michael will take to seeing my offspring. We've been deemed no longer friends. Permanently, this time."

"Oh, Brian, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's all right. It was for the best and he was being an asshole anyway. It was time." He could practically feel Lindsay's sympathetic but exasperated eye roll through the phone.

"Do you want to talk to your son?" Lindsay didn't wait for an answer, he heard her calling, "Gus, do you want to talk to Daddy?"

"Daddy!" Brian could hear Gus's joyous shout loudly through the phone. There were scuffing and shuffling sounds as the phone transferred hands. "Hi, Daddy!"

"Hey, Sonnyboy. How are you doing?" Brian lay back on his sofa and listened to Gus babble on about school and Mommy and Jenny and his new best friend. He felt warmth pool in his gut at the thought of having this ball of energy around.

"Oh, and Daddy! We're coming home, did you know?" Brian barely got his "Yes," in before Gus was talking a million miles a minute. "We're going back to live with you and Uncle Michael and Gramma Deb in a house in Pittsburgh. It's not our old house, but Mommy said it close by and she said I can have my own room and I can paint it whatever color I want. I can even make it a racecar room! Or a space room! Or anything. And she said Justin would help me. Will Justin help me, Daddy?"

"I'm sure he will, Sonnyboy."

"I cant wait to see you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy. And Justin too." Brian sighed, smiling.

"I love you, too, Gus. Can you put Mommy on the phone again? I have some questions for her."

"Uh huh. Here Mommy!" The phone changed hands again, and Brian asked all the questions and got all the answers he needed. He said goodbye to Gus, then to Lindsay and hung up. Brian pushed a hand through his hair. It was strange, this feeling. Even after Justin had come into his life, Brian had maintained the belief that he was unworthy of being loved, that love would simply hurt or damage him. But having Gus love him so unconditionally, and Justin love him so much, it felt incredible to know that he was worthy. He was worthy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin talk. The girls come home to Pittsburgh, and moving day is a little awkward. Lindsay and Justin have a confrontation.

Justin bounded into the loft, kicking off his shoes as he closed the door. He glanced at Brian, who sat lounging on the couch, watching A Streetcar Named Desire only halfway, a small satisfied smile on his face. Justin walked over to the couch and took Brian's Pellegrino out of his hand, taking a swig and giving it back.

"Hey!"

"Oh, get over it."

"How was your girls' day out lunch?"

Justin gave him a gentle swat. "It was Daphne. We were talking about you. How do you think it went?"

"Lots of gasps and squeals. She thinks we're confusing but she's incredibly happy."

"Got it in one." Justin walked around the couch and plopped down next to Brian, putting his head in the brunette's lap. His face turned serious. "You know we're going to have to talk about this."

Brian threaded his fingers through Justin's hair. "Way to ruin a good mood, Sunshine."

"You knew it was coming."

Brian sighed. "Fine. What do you want to _talk_ about." He grimaced at the word 'talk'.

"Us. Brian, I promise it won't hurt. It'll take just a little while and then you can get back to your movie or work or whatever."

Brian looked away from the blue gaze for a moment, thinking. He knew how much Justin loved him, and if he wanted to keep him, he'd have to at least talk to him a little bit. Justin loved talking. Well, maybe he would do the talking and Brian would just have to listen. He softened his expression and looked down at his lover.

"Okay. What about us?"

"A few things. Just…" Justin reached up and stroked Brian's face gently. "I need you to trust me, Brian. I need to know that you're not going to kick me out every time you think something's wrong. I need to know that you'll stop assuming I'm going to leave you for someone else. I'm not. I made that mistake once, I'm not going to make it again. If you think something's up, you need to talk to me, or at least try to, okay?"

Brian nodded.

"And we don't have to keep Britin. I don't need a huge house to know you love me. And it's true, I know it holds more bad memories for you than good ones. And besides, the loft is your home. It's my home, too. It's been a huge part of my life for five years. It holds all our memories. It _is_ us." He smiled, and softened his voice again, thumb stroking the tan neck. "And Brian? I don't need to hear it all the time. I don't. I can hear it in your actions. It's just nice to be reminded with words every once in a while."

Brian nodded once more. "I'll try. I can't guarantee, but I'll try."

"That's all I need."

Suddenly Justin hauled himself up and straddled Brian's lap, putting his arms around the other man's neck. "Fuck me now?" He asked with a grin.

* * *

"Oh, this is wonderful! I'm so glad the girls are coming back home." Debbie's grin practically split her face. The effect was made all the worse by her bright red Betty Boop lipstick, yellow triangle earrings, and the garishly patterned sweater than Brian suspected would make better a fuel than garment. She bopped happily to the music drifting from Emmett's stereo.

"Of course, it's so like you and Emmy Lou to turn a moving day into a disco party." Brian grumbled, but he was smiling. A dark green minivan turned onto the street, and suddenly everyone was yelling and waving. Gus's brown head stuck out the window and he waved until the car was in the driveway, then he was tumbling out of the van and bulleting towards Brian.

"Daddy!" He barreled into Brian, who caught him before his knees could risk being broken and swung him into the air. Like Brian, he was already tall and lanky for his age.

"Hey, Sonnyboy!" He hugged the boy, burying his face in the child's hair, a smile on his face that Justin had not seen in a while. Justin grinning widely, loving the fact that Brian loved his son, that he would see him more often and maybe even raise him some. He was a wonderful father.

Mel and Linds got out of the car. Melanie went around to the side to get Jenny Rebecca while Lindsay opened the back of the car. She didn't get too far, though, before Debbie was scooping her into a crushing hug. Melanie grinned at her wife's predicament as Lindsay tried to breath around the matriarch's grip. "Hi, Debbie." She managed.

Debbie released her. "Welcome home, baby." Suddenly she turned to the group of people clustered around the yard and the moving van that had arrived an hour or so earlier. "Well? Let's get movin'!"

The yard burst into action. People scurried about, grabbing up boxes and pieces of furniture and lugging them into the house while Mel, Linds and Debbie directed where things ought to go. Gus and Jenny Rebecca ran around, trying to help, but getting in the way more often than not.

* * *

"Hi, guys. Sorry we're late." Brian stopped at the sound of the voice, half crouched over a box. He could feel Justin's eyes on him, gentle, supportive, but also curious and a little angry himself. With both of them in a volatile state of simmering anger, who knew what things would be like? Brian stood up, his back still to his old friend, and went off to get a box from another room. He had a feeling Justin would follow him.

"Brian-?" Brian waved a dismissive hand.

"It's all good, Sunshine. I just don't really want to talk to him."

Justin nodded. They could hear Michael's excited "So can I see my daughter?" in the other room. JR came bounding inside in that half-walking, half-waddling three-year-old way. They both watched through the doorway as Michael scooped her up and began talking in high-pitched voice, asking her questions.

Brian scoffed and shook his head. "Christ. He sounds like he should be the one in first grade." Justin huffed a small laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. They both knew the joke was more out of a need to defend than actual humour. It angered and annoyed Justin to think that no one was really helping to diffuse the situation. That they probably blamed Brian in some way or another, even if it wasn't his fault. He had never gotten used to the fact that Brian's family and friends often used him as their punching bag and blame game whipping boy. The thought made him tense.

"Daddy, c'mere!" Gus suddenly ran in, grabbing Brian's hand and tugging him into the room where the rest of the group stood. Justin followed, wary. Michael glanced up from infantilizing his daughter. He and Brian locked eyes, and a lull seemed to descend upon the room. Brian's gaze was simply cold, but standing nearby, Justin could feel the hurt thrumming through him. Michael gave his old best friend a look that was part anger and part apology. Everyone shifted awkwardly, eyes flicking from one father to the other. Luckily, Emmett saved them, calling down from upstairs.

"Brian, bring Gus over here. I want to show him his new room!"

"New room! New room!" Gus sprinted off. Everyone else visibly relaxed as Brian turned away to follow his son. Once out of the room, Justin let out the breath he'd been holding. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Michael frowned and shook his head as if to clear it. It was strange, to get that look from Brian. It was the look he gave tricks that he wasn't interested in. It was the look he gave clients and employees when they were being especially incompetent or annoying. It wasn't quite rage or disappointment, more like a cool detached eye that made you feel like you were somehow _beneath_ him. Brian had never looked at him like that before. He'd seen Brian angry at him, disappointed with him, glad for him, but never anything like this. It was unnerving. He'd have to get used to it.

He turned his attention back to his daughter and his husband, whose hand was on his back. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Soon, everyone was hurrying to and fro, unloading and unpacking, racing up and down the stairs. Melanie and Emmett had decided together that unpacking everything that was to go upstairs was easier, then they'd do the downstairs.

Brian gave Lindsay a half-friendly smirk. There had been a lot of fighting between him and the munchers while Justin was in New York, and quite a bit of the anger still had not been smoothed away. "At least you brought my kid with you this time." He said lightly, in jest, but Lindsay and Justin could both hear the simmering resentment beneath the words. Lindsay gave him a sickly sweet smile and said nothing. He rolled his eyes, gave her a simpering look, and wandered off in another direction, out toward the back of the house. Justin helped Lindsay pick up a particularly heavy box.

"So, Justin, how is New York? I try to keep up with the articles about you, but I haven't heard what it's actually like for you." Lindsay said between grunts and groans as they moved down the hallway into the master bedroom.

"It was great. I learned a ton about everything. It's so busy and wild all the time. It was wonderful."

"Was?" They set the box down. Lindsay rested her hands on the top and look at him. Then she blinked, as if convincing herself of something. "So, when are you going back? I heard you have a show next week."

"Yeah, I do, and I'm not."

* * *

Downstairs, Brian wandered around the backyard, smoking a joint and watching some buff dudes set up the swingset playground for Gus and Jenny. He couldn't see the guys' faces or cocks at the moment, but he was pretty sure he'd fucked them both already, which was a disappointment. Justin and these two guys were the only remotely fuckable living beings here, and Justin was indulging the helpful little WASP that often crawled its way out of the fiery little shell it was housed in.

He took one last hit of the joint, dropped the butt and ground it out under his heel, before turning and walking back inside family room.

Gus was standing by the now-unpacked couch, watching Michael struggle with a box with an interested eye. Michael looked at the boy and opened his mouth, but seemed to realize that if he was struggling with the box, the child would be of no help. He turned a bit and saw Brian leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

"Hey, Brian, could you help me with this?" Brian raised a cool eyebrow, trying to shove down the pain and anger that were trying to claw their way out of him. "I-I meant with the box. It's too heavy."

Brian blinked. "Sure." It was flat, deliberately emotionless. He picked up the other side of the box and hefted it.

"Hey, Brian, I was wondering…" he trailed off at Brian's expression, then took a breath and tried again. "I wanted to tell you that you were right. And I shouldn't have gotten mad or said those things."

"Well, it's always nice to be right, isn't it?" He kept his face neutral. "Now, where does this go, so I can get back to my not-boyfriend and thinking about myself."

"Br—" Michael started, stopped. He didn't know what to say, Brian was using his own words against him and making it all too clear that he didn't want to be friends any longer. "Just-just put it here. He gestured to a corner. Brian put it down, pushing away the urge to just drop it on Michael's foot.

"Thanks."

"No need to thank me, Michael. You never do." He watched Michael flinch at the use of his real name instead of the usual 'Mikey.' But he lost the endearment of Mikey as soon as he started yelling. Brian had had quite enough. He brushed past Michael towards the stairs, ruffling his son's hair as he passed him.

* * *

"You're not going back? But you're so young, you have so much potential! New York was your dream."

Justin shook his head. "No, Linds, New York was your dream, not mine. I went there, got what I needed out of it, and came home. I have a show, a fucking solo show. I was only in the city for three years. And the first year I hardly spent any time trolling galleries, I was working. I was trying to pay the bills and find inspiration. Two years, Linds. It took me two years to get a solo show. Do you know how fucking fast that is? I deserve to be home, where I want to be."

"But you should be there. You should be working on getting attention from the media. You should be finding inspiration for your art. And you know you're just going to leave again like you did last time. You know what it did to Brian. Do you really want to see that happen again? You should stay there, let him let you go. For him, and for you. We'll all be here to help him, his family."

Now Justin fixed her with an angry stare. "His family." He stated flatly. "His family, who blames him for their fuck ups, who pins everyone else's problems on him and then expects him to fix it and clean up after them. His family, Michael, who let him stew in his own guilt after I got hit, who broke promise after promise, who knows just what to say to hurt him to the bone, and uses it to his advantage every single fucking time. His family, Debbie, who says she loves him, but calls him 'little asshole' instead of his name, who blames him for Michael's fuck ups, who tries to be a helping hand but often ends up hurting him more. His family, you and Mel, who constantly berated him and told him to start being a real father instead of a drop-in dad, and as soon as he wanted to get to know his son, to really love him and be a father to him, ran away to Canada where you thought it was fucking safe."

Lindsay stared at him, shock written all over her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but Justin barreled on, his anger building.

"You're always telling him to be a part of the community, and as soon as he fights for said community, you bail on him. As soon as the community is attacked; by Stockwell, by the fucking bomb, you skip out. And leave him stranded. You tell him you love him, well you sure have an interesting way of showing it. First you ask him to have your kid, then you take the kid away. You tell him to go after me, but you help him push me away so much I wonder if you just want him for yourself. You're just going to keep manipulating him, dangling some treat in front of him so that he stays just close enough for you to keep him, for you to fantasize. I know what you feel for him, but it's never gonna happen. And you have Melanie. And Gus and JR. You need to concentrate on them, on your children and your wife. You need to take care of them and be in _their_ lives, not ours. Now you have the rest of the family to support you. I love you, Linds, I really do, but you need to grow the fuck up."

Justin was concentrating so hard on what he had to say that he didn't notice when the air in the room shifted, when Lindsay glanced up toward the doorway that his back was to, and her face froze. He didn't notice that she was staring at him with a mixture of shock and fear, until he felt and gentle hand on the back of his neck, soothing. He didn't look away from Lindsay, though, his white hot glare still burning through her.

"Justin." Lindsay visibly relaxed at the sound of Brian's comforting voice, but Justin understood the underlying tones. He had done the right thing, Brian understood what he was saying. He glanced up at Brian, registering the slight flick of his head toward the door. Shoot a last glare at Lindsay, he stepped out of the room, pausing at the top of the stairs to hear what was said.

"Lindsay, he's not a kid any more." Brian's voice carried down the hall. Justin was pretty sure he knew he was listening. "He's not just some blonde twink. He can make his own decisions. So can I." Lindsay replied with something, but was so soft, Justin couldn't understand it. "You heard what he said. I'm sure you understand what he was saying. I agree with him, on most counts. Now, I have to go. Maybe you should think about what you were just told."

He knew that was the end of the conversation, and started down the stairs. Brian joined him at the bottom of the landing. He put an arm around Justin's shoulders. Gus came running up happily.

"Daddy! Jus'sin!" Brian ruffled Gus's hair and released Justin to pick up his son.

"Hey, Gus." He gave his son a kiss. Gus reached for Justin, who grasped his small hand and kissed him as well.

"Are you leavin'?" Gus asked.

"Only for today, Gus. We'll see you tomorrow. And you can come over whenever you want, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy! I love you!" Justin watched the amazement and wonder flicker across Brian's face. He was still surprised that his kid loved him. It made Justin kind of sad.

"I love you, too, Sonnyboy." He kissed Gus again and lowered him to the ground. Gus hugged Justin's legs.

"I love you too Jus'sin!" Justin smiled.

"I know, Gus. I love you." He kissed Gus, then stood. "We have to go, okay, Gus? We'll see you later."

"Bye bye!" He waved them out the door. They walked down to the car and got inside. Justin put a hand on Brian's knee as they backed out.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. I love them, I do. It's just that sometimes they just make me so angry. I mean, after all that shit that happened while I was in New York..."

"Justin." Brian interrupted. "Justin. It's okay. You're allowed to voice your opinion. I know you love them. You don't have to reassure me. You're allowed to be angry. Now let's go home. I want to fuck you. Angry sex is always hot."

He pulled Justin to him and kissed him, one eye on the road. Justin knew the anger he was feeling would be gone, but like Brian, there would still be that twinge of pain and resentment towards the rest of his family. He let Brian kiss him, running his fingers through his hair, pushing the argument to the back of his mind.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin leave the Munchers' new house. Daphne cant make it to New York. Brian and Justin attend Justin's solo show, and Lindsay shows up.

Michael and Ben watched from the upstairs office window as Brian and Justin walked down the lawn to their car. Michael watched Brian lean over and say something gently in Justin's ear, to which Justin nodded and stroked Brian's cheek. Michael suddenly wished he had superhearing. He wished Brian still talked to him that way, still looked at him with even a fraction of that affection.

Ben's voice pulled him back to the present. "I wonder what that was all about?" They'd both heard Justin's raised voice, sounds of anger, but the door to the room he and Ben were in was closed and the words had been muffled. They'd heard Brian's low but serious voice a few minutes later, and then footsteps down the stairs as they left.

Michael watched the car pull into the street. Why was Justin so angry? What was going on? Why was he angry at Lindsay, of all people? They seemed to get along great, inspire each other. And Lindsay actually supported Brian, he wasn't a pit bull toward him like Mel.

"No idea. I think he was talking to Lindsay."

"Hm." Michael was perfectly aware of Ben's 'hm' thing, but this time he decided to let it slide.

"Come over hear and give me a hand with this. I can't get the screw in."

* * *

Lindsay was still standing where Brian had left her when Melanie came into the master bedroom and found her. She was staring at her hands. A few tears had slid down her cheeks, but the rest stayed swimming in her eyes, blurring her vision.

Melanie took one look at her wife's miserable expression and blew up. "That rat bastard! What did he do this time? I'll fucking kill him. He—"

"Mel. Melanie. Don't. Don't get angry with him."

"And why the fuck not? He hurt you and you're defending him?"

"No, Brian didn't do anything. Justin mentioned some things that needed to be addressed. They upset me, but he's right."

"Lindsay? What?"

"Justin brought up some of our faults, and I think they need to be righted. Especially since Justin is living with Brian again." She shook her head. She still thought Justin should be in New York where he'd get noticed.

"What? He's back in Pittsburgh?" Lindsay nodded.

"Anyway, he mentioned how much we've hurt rather than helped Brian. And his relationship with Brian. So I think some of those things need to be changed."

"What did he say?"

"I just…" She stared at Melanie's angry face and leaned against the box. "Listen, can we finish this, get everything unpack and everyone else out, and then I'll explain it to you?" Melanie simply nodded and left the room to let Lindsay get her emotions in check.

She went back downstairs and into the kitchen where Emmett was unpacking kitchenware and food. She sat down at the counter and Emmett smiled sympathetically at her. He pulled a glass out from the box sitting on the counter, turned and grabbed a bottle of liquor, pouring her some.

"Moving sucks, sweetie." It was a sentiment she had to agree with. She nodded.

"Yeah, it's a bitch." She downed her glass. "Of course, Brian doesn't make it any better. Asshole."

Emmett said nothing. He seemed to know that in this fight, it was better to remain neutral. Melanie stuck out her glass for a refill.

* * *

Brian watched Justin pack for New York, huffing whenever he saw an article of clothing that was against his taste. Justin rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Brian. You can pack your own bag."

"We're buying you some Prada clothes when we get to New York. You need to look nice, not like some rumpled artist."

"I am a rumpled artist, Brian."

"Yeah, well, you're not supposed to look like one." This time Justin huffed. He zipped up his black duffel and sat down beside Brian on the bed. "Our flight is at nine tomorrow morning."

"You had to make it in the morning?" He gave Brian's foot a gentle kick.

"It was all they had. Anyway, you and I can find some flight attendant to fuck, then you can sleep. Or whatever."

"You think Dijon is working this flight?"

"I don't know, call him."

"Ha." Justin's cell phone trilled. "Maybe that's him." He picked up the phone. "Hello?

"Justin!"

"Hey, Daph, what's up?"

"I have some shitty news. I can't make it to your show. My fucking professor, I swear she hates me. She always assigns the biggest, most hardass projects that are worth the most credit on the week that one of my friends has something important going on. It's like she has my calendar memorized or something, and wants to get rid of my social life forever."

"It's okay, Daph."

"Listen, we can celebrate when you get back from New York. We can go out to dinner and you can tell me all about the wonderful patrons of your art and how many commissions you've suddenly got and how dirty filthy rich you are, okay?"

"Sure, Daphne. Thanks."

"I'm sorry, again."

"It's all right. Later."

"Bye." They hung up.

Justin sighed. "Daphne can't make it. Her professor's a bitch. I guess we'll find out who still likes us by who comes to this."

"Well, whatever. I'm sure you'll find some more admirers."

"Brian…"

But Brian shook his head. "It's alright, Sunshine. For now, let them go to hell. If they come to their senses, great, if not, they can stay there."

Justin nodded. He knew by Brian's tone that that was the end of the conversation. Instead, he leaned over and headbutted Brian in the chest, effectively pushing him over. He crawled over and straddled him, grinding his ass into Brian's crotch. He bent his head down, his face millimeters from Brian's, each breathing the other's breath.

"Fuck me." Justin breathed into Brian's mouth, and Brian gave a feral grin. Hooking a leg around Justin's foot, he grabbed him around the shoulders, and flipped them both over so he was on top. He unbuttoned Justin's cargo pants and yanked them off smoothly.

"No underwear, Sunshine?"

"Figured it'd be useless with you around, staring at me like that."

Brian smirked and pulled off his own pants as Justin fought to get his paint-splattered t-shirt over his head. Brian unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it off, then leaned down, taking Justin's left nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue across the nub until it hardened into a peak. Justin groaned and arched beneath his mouth, threading his fingers through Brian's hair. Brian laid wet, open-mouthed kisses along Justin's stomach, then back up his chest. He kissed the corner of Justin's mouth, nuzzling his face gently. He felt Justin's huff of impatience and then the fingers in his hair were tightening and Justin was pulling him into a searing kiss.

"You're an ass. Fuck me already." Brian reached over and grabbed a condom, rolling it on and slicking himself up before pouring more lube on his fingers to prepare Justin.

He slid inside him, pausing for a moment in order to allow Justin to get comfortable. He slid out again, until just the head of his cock was inside Justin, holding himself there, waiting until Justin started moaning and pressing back against him to move, then he pushed back in and began fucking Justin in earnest. After a few moments, when Justin was thoroughly worked up, he slid his hand under the pillow. Justin felt Brian's long fingers encircling his cock, moving down, but then the were moving away—Justin looked down in time to watch as Brian slipped the leather strap around his cock and fitted it snugly around his balls.

"Fuck. You."

"No, fuck you. And I will. Until you beg, Sunshine." Justin dropped his head back on the pillow with a groan.

* * *

On the plane to New York, Justin was excited. He'd tried hard to sit still, but the adrenaline and energy pulsing through him left his body thrumming with the need to move. But the time they got to the hotel, and he'd finished telling Brian stories about something or other that had happened to him on each street they passed, he was exhausted. He fell onto the bed fully clothed, leaving Brian to tug off his jeans and unbutton his shirt.

"Brian." He reached for him. Brian lifted the covers and pushed Justin beneath them.

"I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not going to fuck you tonight. You need rest and energy for your big day tomorrow. You need to be awake in order to fend off your adoring fans and those big bad reporters."

"And you."

"And me." Brian shucked his clothes and slid in beside Justin, pulling him close. He kissed the shell of Justin's ear. "I promise I'll give you the most amazing celebratory fuck you've ever had after you've astonished the world tomorrow night and gotten rave reviews and commissions galore."

"Overly optimistic, are we?"

"No, just honest. Face it, you know I'm right." Justin just smiled, his eyes still closed, and moulded his body back into Brian. Soon they were both asleep.

* * *

"Justin." Brian breathed into his lover's ear, hovering just above him. "Justin."

Justin rolled over, mashing his face into the pillow and waving a loose hand in Brian's direction, snuffling sleepily into the fabric. Brian almost let himself think it was cute, but managed to stop the thought before it surfaced.

"Justin, you need to wake the fuck up. I'm not dragging your half-asleep ass to the gallery for your first solo show, and I'll be damned if I'm going to endure being around you when your hungry. So get up, eat something and get dressed to so we can leave."

"MmrgIdonwanagobri." Brian raised an eyebrow at the muffled sentence. He watched with mild amusement as Justin stilled in his movements, then shot upright in bed, eye wide, blinking rapidly. "Fuck! I have my show today!"

"Uh, yeah, Sunshine. So get up, get moving."

Justin ordered the most enormous breakfast Brian had ever seen, so he decided to take a shower and shave; he might get fat if he watched Justin eat all that food. Once Justin had inhaled his breakfast and showered, Brian hogged the bathroom to primp. When he stepped out, Justin was dressed in a dark blue silk shirt and light grey slacks, and was in the process of taking his black pea coat out of its garment bag, but he looked so hot that Brian had to undo all his work and fuck him into the mattress before they could leave.

Justin wanted to take a cab—it was cheaper, but Brian insisted that they take the escort car because it looked more professional. Justin let him get away with it, because Brian knew all about looking professional.

Justin got out of the car with Brian right behind him. He was grinning like a fool, and Brian was trying to hide his own proud smile, and not doing a very good job of it. They opened the glass doors and stepped inside the gallery. Patrons were already mingling about in the foyer, and Justin was about to step into the main gallery when Roger swooped down upon him.

"Justin! Jenna Morgensen is here. You know, the woman who interviewed you when you were last here? Along with a couple other reporters. You need to come talk to them."

"Okay." He turned to Brian. "The main gallery is down those stairs. Go enjoy. I'll be right there." Brian nodded and Justin flashed him a sunshine smile, gave his jaw a kiss, and hurried off to follow Roger.

The reporters asked the same boring questions about inspiration and medium, education, history and made comments about his age and how talented he was. Justin wanted to roll his eyes. They had no idea how many times he'd heard "You're so young, but you're so talented! You're so lucky to be having a solo show at your age!" and all the variations thereof.

They finally finished asking their questions and Justin managed to shake them off by convincing them to go in and actually _look_ at the art. After saying hello to a fellow artist friend and thanking Roger, he headed into the main gallery.

* * *

Brian paused at the entryway to the main gallery, backing up and leaning against the railing. He watched as Justin talked to the reporters, could tell from the set of his shoulders and the angle of his head that he was exasperated. He was pretty sure all art critics asked the same exact questions. But Justin was amazing at socializing, and it was fun to watch him at it. His expressions, how fucking open he was, it was incredible to Brian, and fucking hot. He watched until Justin began to gesture with his hands, he could tell that was the sign that they were wrapping up, and with a small smile, headed down the short steps to the main floor.

Brian's feet stopped moving as his brain registered what he was seeing. He didn't know what to feel. It was their entire history on display. A few partitions had been set up in the center of the floor, and on them were hung many, many sketches and pencil, charcoal or pastel drawings of himself, the gang, family dinners, Gus and Brian, Michael and Brian half-asleep, leaning against each other in a booth in the diner, and many more scenes of every-day life that defined their group of friends. He noticed, with particular amusement, that Justin had somehow managed to find the drawing of Brian that he'd done years ago for the GLC art show, and smuggled it in to hang in the show. The blurb beneath the piece told patrons that it was the first-ever displayed and purchased piece by Mr. Taylor, and that he'd drawn it when he was seventeen.

The other partitions were also covered in sketches of life, and he recognized them as bits and pieces of their history together. There were sketches, shaky and done with a sort of trepidation, filled with eraser marks. He recognized them as the drawings from after the bashing and remembered massaging Justin's hand every five minutes or so in order for him to go on. Then there was a sort of gap in the art, and he realized that was probably the point in time when he was with the fiddler, although there were a few sketches of his face on small scraps of paper that looked secretive and hurried.

There was a large pastel drawing of Rage silhouetted on a rooftop, looking down at a partying Liberty Avenue, the rainbow flags and election signs making it an obvious representation of the time when Stockwell lost, and he was the Wizard of Oz. There were other drawings, large and small, but one that caught Brian's eye was of himself; it was only 10x15, but the detail made him notice it. It was a portrait of him, lying in bed, sheets twisted around his legs. He was staring off in the distance, a cigarette in hand, a concerned look on his face. His eyes and expression held a lingering worry and fear, his other hand was lying on Justin's empty side of the bed, as if needing to protect it. It was a position he'd lain in often, when Justin was in the Pink Posse, waiting for him to come home, hoping against hope that he wouldn't get _that call_ tonight, not tonight.

He saw a charcoal drawing of two hands, tightly clutching on a tiled floor, taking him back to the days when he was going through radiation, and spending afternoons huddled on the bathroom floor, retching into the toilet with Justin at his side, stroking his hair and murmuring nonsense in his ear. The drawings moved on in time, a portrait of Debbie's face optimistic but worried as she waited for Michael and Brian to cross the finish line during the Liberty Ride. Ben and Michael in the hospital, listening to Hunter regale them with his adventures, Brian's open, frightened expression just after he'd expressed how he'd really felt about Justin.

As Brian moved on, the pictures became a little more painful for him to look at. He wanted to cover his eyes, to look down, to take the pictures and turn them around, but he couldn't stop staring at the images that described the moments from the last three years, when Justin had been around, the moments that he was vulnerable and in pain, stressed out or angry. The portrait of his vacant face, eyes at once despondent and angry, a cell phone to his ear on which a dial tone sounded in place of the person who had hung up minutes ago. It made him want to call Lindsay and yell at her again, as he had that day, but then he remembered that they were back in Pittsburgh and it was okay again.

He turned away from that pain and found him face to face with another kind of ache. The main pieces of the show stared down at him from their perches on the wall, as if daring him to look away. Brian stared back at them, uncertain of what to feel. Displayed in full colour for the world to see, were the most defining moments, the most life changing moments of their relationship.

Justin came up behind him, Brian felt his presence before he felt the hand fall gently on his shoulder. He drew Justin towards him, tangling one hand in the golden hairs at the back of his neck.

"What do you think?" Justin asked. This time it wasn't in jest, or asking for some reassurance of love, or being facetious, or any of the other reasons for the question there had been in the past. This time it was truthfully, openly asked. It was a question of vulnerability.

Brian stared at the paintings for a long time, taking each one in. A painting he instantly recognized as his own eye, a revealing hazel, the colour Justin had probably seen the first night they'd met, made him grin a bit. At the next one, an abstract that he recognized as Liberty Avenue and that blessed, fated lamp post, he pulled Justin a little closer. His eyes moved to the next painting, and he recognized it immediately, his jaw setting and emotions turning inward.

For a moment the scene played out again in his mind. Justin's laughter as he turned and grinned so brightly at Brian, he was nearly blinded. The strange, uplifting, bubbling feeling in his stomach as he got in the car and watched him walk away, the feeling that stilled and turned to frantic fear as he saw the kid with the bat appear in the mirror. The way everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the way the ground seemed to be slicked, sliding under and away from him, he couldn't get there fast enough.

" _Justin!"_

The smile full of adoration and anticipation as he turned, unsuspecting of the danger that was _right there_. Not fast enough. Justin's body crumpling to the cold cement of the garage floor, blood seeping out, covering his hands, the pure scarf around his shoulders suddenly marred with his life and fragility and Brian's guilt. The sheer feeling of helplessness, of weakness and heartbreak and the _certainty_ that Brian could feel the life fade out of Justin as he clutched him in his arms, unaware of the tears choking him, of his own harsh sobs that eventually morphed into hoarse screams, of the horrible stain on his clothes, on the pavement. _"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. God!"_

Justin tugged a little on his arm.

"Brian." Justin's voice brought him back to the present. He shook his head to clear it and moved on to the next piece. Two figures, the two of them, shrouded in blue, entwined, fused together on their sides on the bed, unable to tell where one ended and the other began. There was a feeling of total comfort and safety, protection, in that painting. His lips were kissing Justin's neck, Justin's right hand at his cheek, his left entwined with Brian's right, Brian's left on Justin's hip, frozen in time. It was infused with a sort of sad, aching beauty.

"Shit." He breathed. Justin looked up at him, nodded.

"Yeah. That's how I feel when I think about that night, too."

The next painting provoked a similar reaction. It was chaotic, full of oranges and reds and yellows and greys, flashing blue and red, darkness. The aftermath of an explosion, the onlookers' view obstructed by the brownish-grey of ash. But through the noise of colour and emotion, two figures were again seen, this time dark and solid, embracing, fear and need and comfort and utter relief emanating from them.

The next one made Brian want to put his head down, to close his eyes and hide, but he couldn't stop staring at it. His own face, streaked with tears, a mask of anguish and loss and despair, a silent but shuddering scream pushing up out of his throat and shoving past his lips, that night he thought he'd never see Justin again. He remembered the loss and pent up sorrow he'd felt, the resignation and acceptance that had settled heavily into his bones as he drifted off to sleep, Justin's body warm and solid beneath him for only a very short period of time.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Justin."

"I painted this once I came back. If I had painted it in New York, I would have come right back home."

"They're…" Brian searched for the words to describe the paintings that so completely described parts of them. "Fuckin' unbelievable."

Justin looped his arms around Brian's neck and kissed him, hard. Brian gave him a small smile. They put their arms around each other and perused Justin's art together, stopping every so often so that Justin could talk to a patron, or some reporter could quickly interview the "up and coming artist." They stopped as Brian examined a drawing of Gus scribbling on a piece of sketch paper in the Diner, Brian and Lindsay watching from the seat across from him.

"Justin! ….Oh, my goodness!" They turned to see Lindsay standing there, her fingers touching her mouth, eyes sweeping over the artwork. Justin frowned.

"Linds? What are you doing here?"

"Justin, these are incredible." She approached them, then seemed to realize that she hadn't told them why she was there, and composed herself. Her face became more serious. She brushed a strand of hair back from her face, a nervous gesture. "Justin, I-I thought about what you said to me the other day. I…didn't realize what I had done to the two of you, how much I had affected Brian, and you, and your relationship together. I didn't realize how much we all had affected you. I can't control Melanie or Michael or any of the others, but I'd like to apologize to you." Her voice went down in register. "And I'll understand if you don't trust me or don't want to be friends, I'll understand if you think I'm a manipulative bitch. But I just wanted to apologize to both of you."

Justin looked her over, an almost wary expression on his face. She shifted from foot to foot, nervous, until he nodded once and said, "Right." A sort of shaky truce seemed to descend over them, and Justin led her to the first partition, where she began to gush with amazement.

Justin gave Brian a small smile. For right now, peace had been made.

Finally, the show closed and, after have a quick discussion with Roger, Justin was released into the wilds of New York City again. Lindsay had said her goodbye, citing a need to get to the hotel, and Justin promised that they'd have lunch together the next day. Brian kissed the side of Justin's neck as they sat in the car, going towards their own hotel.

"Ready for that incredible fuck I promised you?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian gives Justin the promised fuck. Michael calls Brian and tries again to apologize. Daphne and Justin go out to a celebratory dinner, which ends in disaster.

Brian tantalized Justin the entire car ride back to the hotel, holding Justin's hands secure in his lap as he lapped and nipped at Justin's neck, kissing behind his ear the way he knew would make Justin moan. Justin tipped his head to the side to give Brian better access. Brian licked a stripe up Justin's neck and sighed into his ear, making Justin bite back a loud groan.

Brian spent the elevator ride in the hotel nipping at Justin's neck and slowly rubbing circles on his cock through the fabric. By the time they got into the hotel room, Justin was flushed and panting. He practically slammed the door off its hinges before crashing into Brian and crushing their mouths together. Brian chuckled into the kiss, and Justin slapped his ass.

"Fuck you. Now fuck me."

"Yes, dear." Brian tossed him gently onto the bed and went about the task of untying Justin's shoes while uncaringly tossing off his own. "But not for a while."

Brian undressed Justin slowly, kissing and caressing every patch of skin that appeared until Justin was writhing and moaning under him. He pulled off his own clothes quickly and straddled Justin's thighs, rubbing his hands gently over the pale chest, tweaking Justin's nipples and making him jump.

"Brian," Justin moaned. Brian covered Justin's body with his own, laving at his earlobe for moment.

"Justin, I know this was your big night, but, now it's mine. Don't come until I tell you to."

"Why do you always do this to me?" Justin asked breathlessly.

"Because you love it. You know you do." He punctuated his statement by grinding his cock in slow circles against Justin's and Justin let out a groan. Brian laughed at the proof of his statement and pulled back.

He leaned over Justin's body, breathing hot into his mouth, then pushed gently against his side, urging him to roll over. Justin did so, and Brian ran his hands down Justin's back, stopping at his ass and kneading the globes with his fingers. Justin moaned. Brian kissed the back of his neck, open and wet, trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down his back to his ass, before pointing his tongue and sliding it down his crack. He shuddered as Brian breathed hotly on his hole, clawing at the sheets. He moaned and felt Brian's chuckle, then a hot wet tongue was sliding inside him, and he bucked upward, straining against Brian's hands at his hips.

"Easy, Sunshine." Brian murmured against his skin, rubbing his thumbs in circles in the dip of his back. His tongue felt so fucking good, Justin moaned and tried again to press back as Brian rimmed him like he wanted to bury himself inside Justin. Brian pressed his fingers against Justin's side again, rolling him over. Justin brought his head up to look at him, but Brian was staring down at his body, flushed and sweaty, his legs already bent and spread, his arms out from his sides and eyes glazed over, fingers clenching the sheets like a debauched crucifix. Brian's pupils were blown wide, the ring of color thin and barely there. His hands ran up Justin's thighs, past his engorged cock, pausing to tweak his nipples, making him arch upward, onward to tangle in his hair. Brian leaned down and kissed him, hard and claiming.

"You're fucking hot." He breathed against Justin's lips, before sitting up and running his hands back down his body. He took Justin's cock in his fist, but when Justin bucked his hips up into his hand, Brian pressed him back into the mattress. He stroked Justin slowly, too slowly, too light. Justin twitched, spreading his legs further, wanting to thrust into Brian's hand, wanting Brian's cock up his ass, wanting to come. But Brian just continued to stroke him lightly, tantalizing, torturing.

"Shit." Brian groaned. Justin chanced a look at Brian's face. His eyes were dark with lust, flushed patches high on his cheeks. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and Justin groaned. Brian's gaze was hazy with need. "Jesus Christ, Justin. Look at yourself."

Justin arched his neck upwards and looked down at himself. He was spread, wanton, flushed all over. His cock was encased in Brian's fist, the head just peeking out, precum sliding down and pooling around Brian's fingers. His breath hitched and he blushed farther, imagining what he looked like to Brian. He dropped his head back on the pillow before it became too much.

"Brian, please…" He felt Brian's breath across his cock, expected it, but he still jumped when Brian's tongue lapped up the precum spilling out of him, making noises of appreciation. He tongue-fucked the slit, and Justin thrashed beneath him, incoherent pleas falling from his lips. Then he heard the tear of a condom wrapper and suddenly Brian was pushing into him, the tight stretch and burn from very little preparation making Justin gasp in surprise and then pleasure. He hadn't expected this to be gentle, and it wasn't what he wanted. He bucked up against Brian, causing him to slide further inside. Brian gasped in surprise as he slid almost all the way inside. Justin clenched his ass and released, clenched and released as he pressed back against his lover.

"Fuck, Justin." Brian choked out. Justin tangled his fingers in Brian's hair, pulling him down for a kiss. His right hand slid down and clenched tight on the back of Brian's thigh, urging him on, digging his nails in. Brian growled, feral and aroused, and began to thrust hard against him, nipping and sucking at Justin's lips.

Justin clawed at Brian's back, searching for a grip, meeting him thrust for thrust. He felt the heat coiling in his belly, and Brian seemed to know this, because suddenly he was thrusting again and again hard against Justin's prostate, and then Justin was clamping down on Brian's cock and coming hot and hard between them, Brian groaning loudly and filling the condom, then they collapsed together in a heap.

They both groaned as Brian pulled out. It was one of the disadvantages of safe sex. Justin knew that he would prefer to have Brian inside him all the time, would prefer the comfortable, warm, loved feeling of falling asleep with Brian still inside him. They lay together, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow, until Brian rolled to one side and fumbled through his pants pockets for a cigarette and lighter. He took a drag and let it out in a long stream. Then he looked over at Justin.

"So, are you going to really forgive her? Just let everything go?"

Justin rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. He sighed, tracing meaningless designs on Brian's chest with the fingers of his left hand. "I don't know, Brian. After all the things she—they did to you, before they moved away, and after. I just… I don't know if I can trust her anymore, you know."

Brian nodded. "I know." He shook his head and leaned it back against the headboard. "Christ, all our friends are such assholes."

Justin sighed again. "Yeah, well… Let's at least enjoy this night alone before we have to back to Pittsburgh and face the firing squad."

"At least you have Daphne."

"You have Daphne, too, Brian. She loves you, you know. She always has."

Brian knew. He remembered her kindness and helpfulness after the bashing, during the Ethan fiasco, the support she gave to both him and Justin, her stubborn need to keep him safe during his stupid vigilante phase. "I know."

He stubbed out his finished cigarette in the ashtray and looped his arms around Justin as the blonde nuzzled his throat and let out a long breath.

"Damn, I think I just realized how tired I am."

Brian smiled. "Go to sleep, Sunshine. Our flight's in the afternoon tomorrow."

"Thanks." Brian reached down and pulled the covers over them both, waiting until Justin had turned around, snuggling his back up against Brian's chest before kissing the back of his neck and draping his arm protectively around the blonde. His last thought as he drifted to sleep was how fucking proud he was of his Sunshine.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, you think Debbie could have left any more messages?" Brian pressed delete on the last message on the machine. When they got back from New York, there had been forty seven. Twenty-nine of them were from Debbie, and every message on the machine was congratulating Justin on his solo show.

Justin chuckled and wrapped his arms around Brian, handing him a glass of Beam from behind. "I suppose we have to actually go and see them so they can congratulate me in person."

"Do we have to?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Or else Debbie will have both our balls." Justin stroked a hand down Brian's bare back, then turned and headed to the refrigerator, rummaging around. "You know, Daphne's taking me out dinner on Thursday."

"That means we have two days to fuck and relax and smoke weed."

"And see the family." Brian groaned. "It's gotta be done. Sorry."

"At least let's spend tonight on our own. I hope no one comes banging on our doors."

"It's only six, and you know Debbie is out and about checking up on her boys until way past midnight." Justin took a bite out of the apple he'd found, wiping the juice from his lips. Brian stared at the glistening sweet.

"Well, then, let's turn off all the lights so she thinks no one's home and then we can fuck in peace."

"Sounds good."

* * *

When they finally made it downstairs and outside to join the living, the reaction was as expected. Debbie hugged Justin so tight to her chest he thought he might just pass out this time, screaming "I'm so proud of you, Sunshine!" the whole time. Melanie and Lindsay both kissed him on the cheek, giving him quiet but extremely sincere praise. Gus leapt into his arms, showering him with wet kisses and yelling "Congratulations, Justin!" at the top of his lungs. Emmett gave him the usual "I'm so proud of you, Baby!' gush, but later, pulled him aside, glancing at Brian, and whispered "You two are lucky to have each other. He's too proud for words."

Justin couldn't seem to stop grinning, even when his mother pulled him into a hug that nearly rivaled Debbie's, covering him with lipsticks kisses the same as Debbie, tears welling in her eyes. Ben came into the diner for a moment to grab lunch to-go, and gave Justin a pat on the shoulder and a proud smile, congratulating him. Finally, Brian had to actually go in to work, so he kissed Justin deeply, slapped his ass, and left him at the diner with Debbie.

* * *

Michael sat at the counter in Red Cape Comics, thinking about his predicament. He loved Brian, he really did, and he wanted the best for his best friend. He just…he didn't understand why Brian thought that Justin was the best. It confused him. Justin had already left him three—no, four—times. Brian deserved someone who would be loyal to him, who would stay. Someone who would let him trick and party and run free the way he always had, the way he always would. He didn't understand why Brian even needed to be around Justin, but maybe he could force himself to get over it, if only to get his friendship back. He missed Brian more than he thought he would. Because nothing could replace twenty-four years together, nothing could replace twenty-four years of memories and supporting each other and all they'd gone through. Michael sighed. Maybe he'd try again, see if Brian was in a better mood, see if he would maybe talk for a little while. He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Kinney." Brian's voice was clipped, efficient. He was at work. Michael gulped. But, he sounded a lot more relaxed than the last time they talked.

"Brian?"

"Who else, Michael? What do you want?"

"Brian, I just…I just want to apologize for all the things I said. Everything I said about you and about Justin. I wish we could be friends again. I want us to be friends again."

"Michael," Michael heard the sigh of frustration through the line. Then silence that seemed hard and powerful. When Brian spoke his voice was angry steel. "Listen, Michael. Are you listening? I'm only going to say this once."

"I'm listening."

"Good." The voice was harsh and cold, Michael could barely recognize his best friend behind it. "At first I wished we could be friends again. But you know what, Michael? We have absolutely nothing in common."

"But we've been friends since—"

"We were fourteen." Brian finished for him in the same hard voice. "I know. But that was years ago. I'm not fourteen any more, Michael. I'm not even twenty any more. And neither are you. So I think it's time we just let go, okay? We have nothing in common any more, and don't think we'll have anything in common in the future."

Michael felt a sting behind his eyes, at the back of his throat. He had the childish urge to slam the phone down on its receiver and pout. Instead, he took a breath and let it slowly out. He wanted so badly to protest, to argue, but he knew Brian, and he knew Brian would win every time. So he blew out a long breath. "Okay. Okay, Brian, I understand." He stopped, feeling incredibly awkward. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, I guess." Michael couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or sadness that permeated the steely voice. "Good bye, Michael." Michael sucked in a breath, realizing that this was the first time it had ever been 'Good bye,' and not 'Later.'

"'Bye, Brian." He didn't hang up until he heard the click on the other end and the dial tone rang in his ear for long moments.

* * *

Justin stepped into the loft, humming some radio tune under his breath and kicking off his shoes. He had to get dressed and ready for Daphne to take him to dinner. It was just going to be the two of them, because she wanted all the juicy details about his art and the patrons, and Brian's reactions to everything,

He glanced toward the couch and stopped. Brian was sitting very still on the cushions, a bottle of Beam in one hand and a glass in the other, wearing his blue silk robe. Justin approached him slowly, as one would approach a wild animal.

"Brian?"

Brian's voice was soft and weary and hurting. He sighed quietly as Justin rubbed his shoulders. "Michael called today. Asked if we could still be friends. I told him no."

Justin continued his massage, nuzzling the back of Brian's head. "Do you want me to stay in with you tonight?"

"No, fuck that, Justin. Daphne wants to see you. Go spend some time with your…best…friend." His words seem to catch up to him late, and he took a large swallow of the bottle in his fist. It was already mostly empty, so Justin decided it was okay to let him finish it. He gave Brian one last squeeze and moved away, pulling the rest of the liquor from the shelf and moving it away from Brian. Then he went to the bedroom and changed. When he came back down, Brian was lying stretched out on the couch on his back, a throw pillow covering his face. Justin picked up the pillow, gave Brian an upside-down kiss goodbye, and replaced the pillow. He whispered "Later," into Brian's ear and left.

* * *

Melanie and Emmett sat at a booth in the diner. Jenny was squawking and laughing, scribbling lines on a piece of notepad paper Emmett had put in front of her. Melanie picked at her fruit salad as she watched Emmett check off items on his list for whatever party he was planning now. She sighed and rummaged around in her bag for Jenny's juice. Emmett stopped writing and looked up, taking a bite from his sandwich and watching her as she handed Jenny the plastic bottle of OJ.

"You and Lindsay seem to be getting along. Much better than…before."

Melanie remembered for a moment the shambles her marriage had been in after the move to Canada. She nodded. "We've been going to couples counseling. We started right before we moved back."

"That's good. For you and the kids."

"Yeah, it really is. We're communicating better and for once, I think we're actually pretty happy."

"Good for you, Sweetie. When do you start back at your old firm?"

"In a couple days. Which is nice, but in the meantime I have to find daycare for Gus and Jenny so that Linds doesn't have to stay home with the kids. She wants to go back to work for Sidney Bloom, if he'll have her. She's having dinner with him right now, actually. I guess she wanted to talk to him and catch up."

"I'm so glad you're back here and doing well so fast."

"Yeah. Michael seems overjoyed that he doesn't have to fly out to see Jenny."

Emmett nodded. He had the sense not to mention Brian, and how happy he must be to see Gus. He continued with his list, and Melanie went back to her fruit salad.

* * *

"And he was just gushing praise. He kept saying how I was 'so brave to put such strong emotions on canvas this way,' and 'it's amazing how someone so young could have so much experience and wisdom.' It was such bullshit."

"He's right, you know." Daphne speared a piece of asparagus and popped it in her mouth. "You have experienced more bad things than most people. I mean, you're in love with Brian! That's enough experience for a lifetime."

"Very funny, Daphne." She grinned at Justin and he rolled his eyes. He shook his head, sawing his meat into edible-sized pieces. "Still…fucking art critics."

"Okay, so you told me about all the amazing people who came to see your show and what all the 'fucking art critics' said about your work. What about Brian? What did he think?"

"Well, he was proud of me. He didn't say as much, but I could tell. He thought it was funny that I put the drawing from the GLC art show in."

"Yeah, but what about the paintings? He didn't see any of them beforehand, did he?"

"No. Nobody did, except for my manager. He…well, they really affected him. You saw the photos, right?"

"Duh! I bought the magazine as soon as it came out."

"He was really affected by them. Especially the one of him."

"Yeah, well, what did you expect? But seriously, they're fucking unbelievable. You're amazing."

"Thanks, Daph." She smiled and waved him away. The conversation moved on to her homework for med school, and some guy in her class that was always flirting with her, who she thought was pretty cute.

"Want dessert?" Daphne asked as the waiter took their plates away.

"Do you even have to ask?" She smirked and took the dessert menu handed to her. They decided to share a big piece of chocolate cake.

"I should put a candle on it and make you blow it out."

"Why?"

"In honour of your big night, and your success. Well, I have a lighter, you can blow that out." She pulled her lighter out of her pocket and flicked the flame alight, holding it over the slice. Justin leaned in and blew it out with a smile. Daphne clapped her hands, then handed Justin a fork and they dug in.

Justin and Daphne stepped outside, laughing and joking.

"Did you take the bus here?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Jeez, you should really get a car."

"Ah, I don't need one. I can walk or take transit. It's all right."

"Okay, whatever you say. You want a ride back to the loft?"

Justin nodded. "Sure."

Daphne unlocked her Prius and they got in. She turned the radio on to some pop station, and as she made her way out of the parking lot, Justin turned it to an oldies station. They fought playfully over the radio as they made their way across town. When they were stopped at an intersection, they finally agreed on a mixed station that played whatever callers wanted.

"Uh, Daph? Light's green."

"Oh!" She looked away from the screen on the dashboard that told her what song was currently playing, and moved into the intersection. Justin glanced at her smiling face, about to say something, but movement in the window beside her caught his eye.

"Daphne! Look out!" She looked at him, frightened, and he had enough time to fling his arms up over his face before the oncoming car slammed into them.

* * *

The first thing Justin registered was the noise of a million car horns blaring. One in particular was a continuous, unbroken stream of sound. He uncovered his eyes and looked to his left. Daphne was slumped over the steering wheel, airbag deflated beneath her.

"Daphne? Fuck, Daphne!" he pushed at her shoulder. She coughed, took a shuddering breath, then opened her eyes and shifted to look at him.

"What happened?"

"Fuck! Daphne, I thought you were…" he pressed his fingers into his eyes. "Shit."

Daphne coughed again, wincing. "No, no, I'm okay. Fuck, my ribs!"

At the mention of ribs, Justin realized that his body was registering pain in his abdomen. His ribs were killing him. Again. His right ankle was throbbing and his palm was numb where he'd smacked the dashboard to keep from falling into it.

Someone knocked on his window. He looked up. A woman stood outside, cell phone to her ear. He fumbled for a moment and managed to get the door open. Daphne's door was ruined.

"Are you two all right?" The woman asked. "I'm calling the paramedics."

"We're okay, ma'am. Just a little banged up."

The woman nodded. "Well, the man on phone says to tell you to stay put so you don't aggravate any injuries you might have. I'm going to go check on the other driver."

The ambulance was fast, blaring into the intersection with an alarm that sounded too loud. The paramedics let them get out, checked them over. The other driver also had injured ribs, and they suspected head trauma, so they rushed him straight to the hospital. Even though Justin really didn't want to, both the paramedics and Daphne insisted on taking them both to the hospital.

"You need to let them look at your head. Just in case." Justin rolled his eyes, insisting that he was fine, but got into the ambulance anyway, Daphne sitting beside him.

* * *

The doc gave him a small bandage brace for his sprained ankle and some pain meds for his ribs. His head was fine. Daphne had a few broken fingers and a broken rib. Her other ribs were simply bruised. The doctor said she might have a black eye, and her jaw would be sore from the force of the airbag, but other than that, she was okay.

Justin sat in the waiting room when he was finished, and called Brian. Daphne was a few feet away, calling her mother.

"Come on, Brian, pick up." Justin murmured as the ringing continued.

"Yeah? Hello?"

"Brian?" The adrenaline was finally beginning to leave his system, and he couldn't stop his voice from shaking.

"Justin, are you alright? You sound strange. I thought you were with Daphne."

"I'm at the hospital."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian bitches at Justin for his stupidity. Ben gives Michael some important advice, and Michael begins to make a decision. Justin is fed up with Brian's hovering and calls him out, which results in a confession.

The first thing Brian did when he got to the hospital was grab Justin by the shoulders and yank him close. He'd already had a minor freak-out over the phone, but he decided that now that he was with Justin in person, it was time for another one. Justin and Daphne followed him out to his car, silent. They got in and Brian pulled out, turning his face in Justin's direction while keeping his eyes on the road.

"What the fuck? Why didn't you call me as soon as you got to the hospital? I hope you let them check your goddamn head, or we're going right back there."

"They did. I'm fine."

"Good. Daphne, I'm glad you're alright. Where am I taking you?"

"Thanks. Just to my apartment."

Brian nodded and dropped her off, then made his way back to the loft. They took the elevator up and Brian insisted that he take it easy and go to sleep as soon as they got inside.

Justin winced as he pulled off his nice clothes and replaced them with sweatpants and a t-shirt. Brian was staring at him, drink in hand, when he came down the steps.

"You're a fucking stupid ass, you know that? Why didn't you fucking call me immediately. You should've at least had your medical card with you, you know. What if the crash had been worse than it was?"

Justin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Brian was worried, and he covered that up with anger. "I know, Brian." He replied.

"Well? Did the doctor tell you anything I need to know?"

"He just wants me to stay still and off my feet for a little while, to let my ribs and ankle heal."

"Well, then, you're not leaving here tomorrow."

"But the diner—"

"No. If you want, you can go to Daphne's or whatever. But you're not working." Justin returned to the bedroom, grumbling as he slowly got in.

* * *

Pounding on the door and Debbie's loud voice woke them up the next day. Brian groaned and pulled on his sweatpants, pulling the door open.

"Did you seriously have to come over so early?"

"I heard what happened. I'm so glad Sunshine is alright!"

"Yeah, he's alright. He's sleeping."

"No I'm not." A sleepy voice came from the steps to the bedroom.

"Sunshine! I'm so happy!" Debbie looked him over, beaming at the fact that her boy was okay, then her expression turned stern. "But you're not comin' to work today. Or the next couple of days. You need to rest up, to heal."

"She's right, Justin."

"But—"

"No buts." Justin rolled his eyes, grumbling "Fine," before turning and heading back to the bed. Brian kissed Debbie quickly on the cheek then led her toward the door.

"I have to go to work, Deb. I'll see you later." She gave him a little hug and left.

Brian glanced back toward the bedroom before he left the loft, a worried expression on his face.

* * *

" _Hey, Mikey, I'm going to the movies tonight. Want to come?"_

" _I don't have any money."_

" _So? Sneak in. I'll let you in, okay?"_

" _Ummm…what are we going to see?"_

" _Ghostbusters, Mikey, what else?"_

" _Okay."_

" _Good. Meet me there in two hours, alright?"_

" _Sure, Brian."_

_Brian told him to sneak around to the side, and he did as he was told, waiting out in the cold until Brian let him in the side door. They enjoyed the movie, laughing too loudly, Michael shushing Brian when he made brash comments about Sigourney Weaver._

_Leaving afterwards, they laughed and joked, until they got to Michael's house. Brian had to go home, and his face turned serious and stoney when he realized the time._

" _See you later, Brian." Michael grinned, trying to cheer his friend up. Brian smiled tiredly._

" _Later, Mikey."_

The jingling bell as the door opened startled Michael out of his reverie, his memories of his best friend at age fourteen. Ben walked over to the counter and gave him a hello kiss. He frowned when he saw Michael's expression.

"You okay? You seemed a little preoccupied yesterday, and now you look awful. Something wrong?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't know. I-I tried to talk to Brian again last night. I just…it didn't go well. He said we have nothing in common. He doesn't want to be friends anymore. We've been best friends since we were fourteen! We have our entire childhood in common!"

Ben nodded sagely, a thoughtful look on his face. He took Michael's hands. "Michael, maybe Brian is growing up. Not just kids do it, you know. Everyone changes and evolves. Maybe he's changing. And you are, too. And your changes just don't include each other."

"I don't know. I really am sorry for what I said to him. I just wish we could still be friends."

Ben came around the counter and took Michael in his arms. Michael sank against his touch, leaning into his broad chest. "I know, baby, I know."

Michael sighed, then felt Ben stiffen at his next words. "I just don't understand why he thinks Justin, of all people, is 'The One.' I don't get it."

* * *

Melanie raised her glass of champagne, smiling at her wife from across their dining room table. Lindsay raised her glass as well.

"To us." Melanie stated. "To coming home. To our success. To our luck in being able to start right back up in our old jobs without too much hassle."

"To us." Lindsay repeated. They drank.

For a little while, they talked about Gus and Jenny, what they wanted to find in terms of daycare. Gus would be starting up at school soon, but they needed after school daycare for him, as well as care for Jenny. Lindsay didn't want a nanny, so they'd have to settle for a public daycare or someone who ran care out of their own home.

The subject turned to work, and Melanie told Lindsay that she'd pretty much be doing the same thing she'd been doing before they left. She just needed to renew some agreements and forms, and she'd be on her way. Lindsay said that Sidney had asked her to come back to her old job, with the benefit of also being curator and part-time manager. Which, for some reason, reminded her of Justin's show. Melanie listened to her gush about the amazing art. They really were both very proud of Justin. Melanie felt a swell of pride just at the thought of someone like Justin becoming such a big success in so little time. She tuned back into what Lindsay was saying.

"And the expressiveness of his work just blew me away. There was so much experience in all of his art. And I don't just mean artistic experience, I mean life experiences. It was like the paintings of someone twice his age. He's incredible."

"Well, he has gone through a lot more than most people, honey."

"Yes, I know. But there was work at that gallery from when we first met him, from right after the GLC show all the way up to now. There were sketches and drawings of all of us. It was like watching a movie about the past eight years. He's amazing. He's a genius. I just don't understand why he's not still in New York."

"Because he's here, with Brian, whom he loves and he's here, in Pittsburgh, where he belongs. Where his family is. Where his heart is."

Lindsay nodded at her plate and took another drink, not looking at her wife.

* * *

"Michael, what are you talking about?"

"That brat's left him four times. Four! And he still lets him stay. Justin's hurt Brian so many times. He needs someone who will be considerate to him, who will let him be free. Justin made all these rules. He even made Brian go out to New York when they weren't even together! And he's Brian. He shouldn't be kept on a leash. They're not even a real couple. Not really. Look how many times they've broken up. And they both still trick all the time. Anyway, I just don't see how Brian could think that Justin was the One for him."

Ben stared at him, expression strange. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again a few times, as if uncertain as to where to start.

"Michael, I don't—Why— You shouldn't—" He sighed, frowned, and started again. "Look, I just don't understand why you would question someone else's relationship. Why you would say something like that. That would be like Brian saying he doesn't understand why you think I'm 'The One.'"

"But that's easy. I love you and you love me. We're married. We have children and a home and everything. We've been together for six years. It's obvious that you're the one."

Ben sighed again, shaking his head slightly. Michael frowned. He didn't understand what Ben's problem was. Ben looked up at him. "Michael, I think you should just try to get over Brian. I know it's hard, and I know it will take a long time, but since he's made it obvious that he doesn't want to be friends anymore, maybe you should at least try to be neutral when it comes to him. You know, stay civil. I know you love him a lot. And I know you'll never forget him, or your memories together, but it's time to start new memories, without him."

Michael stared. He was hearing what Ben was saying, but he really wasn't sure that he was ready to give up his lifelong friendship, his comfort and safety blanket, his best friend who had always supported him. Until now. He thought of Brian's harsh words, his punch from years ago, the fight they'd had after Jenny was born, the arguments they'd had while Justin was in New York and the girls in Toronto, the cold, angry look in his eyes at Mel and Linds's house the other day. Maybe, he thought, maybe it was time to let Brian go. But it would be hard. And it would hurt like hell. He hugged Ben tighter, glad to have his new best friend so close by.

* * *

Over the next few days, Justin had all sorts of visitors. Debbie came by again, this time bearing a huge pan of lasagna and an oversized dish of tuna casserole for Brian. She kissed Justin on the cheek and gave him a hug that was much gentler than usual because if his bruised ribs. Then she patted his shoulder and asked him how he was doing. He wanted to glare at her and tell her he was bored of his mind just sitting there, but instead he said that he was feeling better.

Lindsay and Melanie came by to drop Gus off so that Justin could have some company while Brian was at work and they didn't have to pay for a babysitter because Justin always refused to take their money.

He and Gus spent the day watching TV, then they made cookies, and then they play Super Mario Brothers together until the Munchers came back and it was time to go home.

"I wanna stay with Jus!" Gus whined.

"I know, but it's time to go home, Sweetie." Lindsay cajoled.

"Please?"

"It's okay, Gus, I'll see you later, alright? Here, you can take the cookies home. Remember to share some with your sister." Gus smiled sweetly at him. Justin knew he wouldn't be sharing them unless forced; he knew what it was like to have a younger sister.

Daphne came by to check up on him, and they talked and joked about rib pain for a little while. Then they watched A Star Is Born, ignoring Brian's comments about their giggling and talking over the movie. She finally had to go back to her apartment, especially since she had class tomorrow with her evil bitch professor and she had to study. "It's all her fault," she joked with Justin. "If she hadn't made me stay here, I would have been in New York with you, instead of driving us home from dinner."

Emmett flounced in once to gush about the magazine article on Justin's show. They had a long conversation about colours, and Emmett told him about his latest party, a wealthy British couple who wanted an old fashioned, 1700's style party. He was renting horses and everything. Justin had a good fit of laughter at his description, waving away Emmett's profuse apologies about making him hurt his ribs.

Not only did people come see him and wish him well, but Brian hovered like crazy. Justin felt like he was living in his mother's house all over again. Brian wouldn't let him do anything remotely stressful or physical, kept asking him how he was everytime he winced from his ribs. It was annoying as shit. After three days, Justin was about ready to explode. He sat on the couch, sketching, as Brian made dinner (he wouldn't even let Justin cook).

He was working on drawing the curve between Brian's ass and his thigh when his hand began to shake a little. He stopped drawing and shook it out, but the pencil went flying from his fingers to the floor. Wincing and sucking in a breath, he leaned down to pick it up, Brian was there as soon as he heard the intake of breath, picking up the pencil and handing it to him. Justin rolled his eyes and took the pencil back.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Brian. Seriously." He glared down at his sketch, poising his pencil again.

"Really?" Justin shook his hand out, gritting his teeth. He looked up when Brian had not yet moved. "You sure?"

"Jesus Christ, Brian!" Brian stared at him. "It was just a little car crash! I've been in a whole lot fucking worse. I'm fine. Now can't you just leave me the hell alone?" Brian exploded.

"No, I can't, Justin! I fucking cant leave you alone! I can't stand to see you hurt. Every single time, I just can't do it. I've had to see it too many fucking times." He was leaning close, getting in Justin's face, anger, fear, pain, worry and a burning adoration warring behind his eyes. "And I can't do shit to help you. I mean, I try to give you one happy night, and I end up going to the goddamn hospital for hours every single night for a month! I throw you a party and you almost die on me again. Then I let you go to New York and your stupid hovel burns down. Then you get mugged. Now this? I can't fucking leave you alone, Justin. I can't stand it. Not if I have to see you hurt. Not if I have to worry that one day I'm going to get a call in the middle of the night telling me you're…."

He broke off, shaking his head, memories from the bashing, of the horrible cold fear in the pit of his stomach as he searched through a ruined Babylon, of the clench of worry when he got Justin's call from his studio about the fire, overflowing in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Jesus Christ, Brian." Justin's voice was soft. He reached out and took Brian's hand, pulling at him gently until he sat down on the couch beside him. Brian stared at him, eyes large and vulnerable, pain clearly evident in them. Justin ran his fingers through Brian's hair soothingly, pushing gently on the back of Brian's head until his face was in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay, Brian. I'm okay. I'm alive and okay." Justin murmured into Brian's ear. They sat like that for a long time, Justin stroking Brian's hair and whispering assurances that he was alive and Brian didn't have to worry. After a while, they realized that dinner was ruined. They didn't care; neither of them was very hungry any more. Instead, they headed for bed. Justin curled into Brian as soon as they were settled, allowing the older man to hold him tightly. They were silent, both lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Justin looked up.

"Brian?"

"Mmm?" was Brian's sleepy response.

"Did…did you say you were at the hospital every night?" He felt Brian tense beneath him, could practically hear the wheels in his lover's head working, trying to find something to say, but he seemed to think better of it, and Justin felt him relax. Brian's words were tentative, thrust out and sort of creaking, as if they'd been hidden away deep inside and unused for years, which was true.

"I had to come every night. I didn't protect you that night, but I could do it better after. And…I didn't want you to see me the way I was. I was…really fucked up."

"I know."

"So yes, I was there every night. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you by fucking it up. I was going to just leave after you got out, but you were a persistent little shit, and anyway, I didn't want to. I just…You scared me. Fuck."

Justin sat up and pressed his face close to Brian's. Brian nuzzled his cheek, eyes closed. Justin stroked Brian's face, Brian pushing into his palm like a horse, breath coming out in huffs.

He pressed his lips to Brian's, putting all his emotion into the simple kiss. He stayed where he was, breathing the breath that his lover exhaled.

"Brian, shit." He murmured against his lips. "Christ. You know what? I love you, Brian Kinney. God, I love you so fucking much."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael begins to get over losing Brian. Justin and Lindsay are at odds, and they have a fight in which Justin clarifies something. Melanie comes to a realization and needs to make a decision. A small band of friends, or at least sympathetic individuals, is formed.

Justin woke up and stretched, as best he could with Brian wrapped around him. He turned in his lovers arms and watched Brian's face as he slept. He smiled at the gentle peace that finally seemed to settle over him, as compared to the fear and traumatic remembering that had creased and hardened his expression the night before. He'd let Brian sleep, he needed it after the stress of last night. He settled back into the warm embrace. Brian nuzzled closer. Justin drifted back to sleep.

When Brian woke up, they ate and then just drifted about the loft, enjoying the comfortable silence. Justin knew that Brian was trying to process everything they had dug up the night before. He decided to let him have his space to think, and went off to his studio to paint.

When he came back, Brian was staring blankly at the computer, only a small amount of work done. Justin tentatively touched his shoulder, and when Brian didn't shrug him off, he put his arms around him from behind and put his head on Brian's shoulder.

"I know you're worried about me. Look, I'll be fine. I let you take care of me when I get hurt or if I need help, but you don't need to think about it all the time. You have other things to worry about. Like your businesses and your son."

"I know. It's just…I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to lose you again and I never want to have to pick up the phone in the middle of the night for you."

Justin moved around and sat himself down in Brian's lap. The brunette made a small noise of protest until Justin began trailing small kisses along his neck and jaw, a gesture reminiscent of years ago.

"I'm okay. I'll be okay. Nothing like that will happen."

Brian nodded, but he wasn't sure he believed it. He worked the rest of the night and then they went to bed and fucked. In the morning, Brian was still moody and brooding, but Justin stayed in the loft and they worked in comfortable, friendly silence. Justin was aware of the lingering looks Brian would cast his way from the computer, though he pretended not to be.

It went on for about a week. They both felt strangely content and comfortable together, at this point in their relationship, but also felt almost frightened at the fact that old truths had been revealed and that there was so much pain from years ago. They both knew there was still so much more pain deep inside, and that they'd have to deal with it all sometime soon.

A call came from Lindsay asking if Justin and Brian wanted to come over for a visit, saying that she wanted to talk and that Gus missed them. Brian insisted that Justin go, but he wasn't ready to face the Munchers, and he really wasn't sure what to say to Lindsay at the moment, anyway. Justin agreed. It had been almost a week since the conversation that night, and they really hadn't been out all that much. His visit to Dykeville would also give Brian some time to think about what to do about the girls in the first place.

Ben let Michael mope around and mourn for his lost friendship for about a week before he got fed up. Michael knew his husband was getting annoyed with his sulking, so he tried his best to stay happier. Ben also tried his best to distract Michael from his misery. They went out to see movies, went with Hunter to a concert or two, went out to dinner multiple times and just generally tried to keep Michael amused and his mind off of Brian.

Michael hoped his missing Brian would lessen. He knew that they had grown apart in the last three years, because of the fights between Brian and the girls, because of the fact that Michael had Ben and Brian hadn't had Justin, because of the differences that were growing larger than their similarities. He just hoped that maybe Brian would stay a little bit in his life, and not drift completely away.

But he was extremely glad to have Ben by his side. Now they told each other everything, because it was time for Michael to have a new best friend, and that meant that secrets needed to be shared and memories needed to be passed on. Michael was glad for this because he got to learn more abut his lover.

It made him sad, though, the thought of not really having Brian to talk with or hang out with. They used to smoke weed and eat enough food for a small army and joke about their high school days or just insult each other back and forth (with Brian always winning), but those afternoons had stopped after Justin left. A lot of things had changed once Justin left for New York and the girls for Canada. Now that everyone was back home, maybe it was time to start something new.

"Jus'sin!" Gus hurled himself into Justin's arms. "Guess what I got? A new monster truck. I started to set it up and then Mama called me down for lunch. Wanna help me with it after?"

"Sure, Gus." Justin was a little disoriented by the speed at which Gus was talking, but then Melanie's voice floated through to them.

"Gus, come back to the table, your lunch is almost ready." Lindsay shut the door and they followed Gus to the dining room. Melanie noticed Justin. "Want a sandwich, too?" she asked. He nodded. Gus and Justin talked about his new monster truck and what was on TV today until lunch was ready.

"Lindsay tells me your show was incredible." Melanie commented as she put a sandwich in front of Justin and another one, plus a plate of sliced pears and carrot sticks in front of Gus. Jenny was taking a nap. Justin smiled a little and ducked his head. He was automatically humble around his friends when it came to his art, the exact opposite of the way he was around Brian.

"Thanks."

"Justin, you are amazing. You're a genius, honestly!"

"Jus'sin's a genius?" Gus asked. "Why?"

"He's a brilliant artist, Gus."

"Oh. Okay." Gus went back to picking at his pears. Affairs like art didn't concern his young mind, he was too interested in dinosaurs (his plate had dinosaurs on it) and monster trucks.

Lindsay joined him at the table. She plucked a carrot stick off Gus's plate and bit into it.

"Seriously. You're work was amazing. Awe-inspiring. It was like watching our lives grow and change ever since you appeared."

"Apparently, she thinks the work you did while you were in New York was stunning." It was a little understated. Melanie grinned sarcastically at him. Justin smiled at her.

"It's true."

Justin shrugged. "Well, I had more inspiration besides Brian. Sort of."

Lindsay slapped her thigh with a dishtowel, and frown on her face. "So why aren't you still in New York? Your work was amazing."

"Because I came back. It was time, and Brian—"

She cut him off. "He's keeping you here." Justin saw Melanie move to intervene, then think better of it. "You shouldn't let him tell you what to do. You had more inspiration in New York than here. He's making you stay." He and Melanie stared at the blonde woman. Justin felt something in him build all of a sudden, then burst. It was bad enough getting this shit from Michael.

"Haven't you all gotten this through your head already? When are you going to understand? He's not making me do anything! I'm here because I want to be. He doesn't control what I do! I can think for myself."

Justin glanced at Gus and breathed deeply, calming himself. He almost wanted to laugh. The inspiration that he'd had in New York hadn't always been Brian, but it had always had to do with Brian. He'd gotten so much intense, negative emotion out of the ordeal with Gus and Brian and the girls when they were in Toronto, that it had been enough inspiration and passion to create many pieces.

"He's right, Lindsay." Melanie cut in. "Brian's not forcing him to stay in Pittsburgh. He's staying because he wants to."

"But—"

"Hold on a second." Justin's voice was commanding and cold. He bent down next to Gus, who was picking at the last of his carrots. His face and voice softened. "Gus, you done eating?" Gus nodded. "Well, why don't you go upstairs. I'll be up in a second and I'll help you set up the rest of your new monster truck, okay?"

Gus nodded again and headed upstairs. Justin waited until he heard the boy's bedroom door close before turning his angry stare back to Lindsay. "I'm not subjecting Gus to any more fighting. If you want to talk, we will do so civilly. I am staying here because I want to. I am not going back to New York."

"But—"

"Linds, you heard him. Brian isn't keeping him here. Hell, I don't think Brian would even have a choice whether he wanted to stay here or not."

"Oh, now you're on Brian's side? That's a laugh."

Melanie glared. "I'm not on anyone's side. I'm just stating what I believe to be true."

"Lindsay, I'm only going to say this one more time. If you cant get it through your head, that's your problem. I'm not going back to New York. Now, if you don't have anything good to say about me or Brian, please stay out of our lives. And for Gus's sake, don't talk about it around him. He doesn't need any more bitching parents."

Lindsay stared at him, open-mouthed. Justin pushed his chair back and headed upstairs to play with Gus.

Michael sat at his desk, staring at something in his hand. He had been attempting to clear out the cluttered, extremely messy space that was his desk and work space, sorting through drawers and throwing out unneeded papers, when he came across a photo. He stared at it a long time. It was him and Brian, years ago, probably seniors in high school, maybe older. They had their arms around each other, but they're making weird faces and Brian is obviously attempting to get out of his grasp.

Ben came in to get something and noticed his still form. He saw the photo and pulled it gently from his lover's grasp, putting it under another pile of papers.

"Michael?" his voice was soft. Michael looked up. "Look, I know you've always love Brian. But you need to try to get over him. If you need to talk, I'm here."

Michael sighed and looked up at his husband, then he took his hand and they both stepped over to the bed. Michael sat down and Ben put an arm around him. Michael made a sort of helpless gesture, then sighed again and began to speak.

"I've always loved Brian. Always have, always will. I know you know that. But we've been friends for years. More than half my life has been spent with him. Most of my best and worst memories involve him. He's saved me and helped me with everything. He just….he was everything to me for so long. We took care of each other, you know? It's been that way for so long, I don't know what to do."

"Turn that responsibility to me. I'll take care of you, Michael. You can talk to me and tell me whatever you want. I'll help you in any way I can."

Michael smiled softly. He could do that, he thought. He'd spent the last four years with Ben more than Brian. He could give Ben the role of confidant. He nodded.

"Okay." Then he looked at Ben's soft eyes trained on his face, took a breath, and began to talk, telling his history and memories to the man he loved.

"What the hell was that about?" Melanie wheeled on Lindsay as soon as she heard the front door shut on Justin's retreated back. They had sat awkwardly in silence at the dining room table as Justin played with Gus. After a while, Melanie had stood and taken the dishes into the kitchen to wash them and clean up, but Lindsay had stayed where she was. Now Melanie was standing in front of her, hands on her hips, glaring down at her wife who sat in the wooden dining room chair with her hands folded in her lap, staring at her curiously.

Lindsay shook her head slightly. "He should be in New York, you know. With a talent like his, an ambition like his, it's perfect. It's what I'd do."

Melanie nearly yelled 'Aha!' at her sudden understanding. Lindsay'd never had the incredible talent that Justin did. And when she met the boy, she was suddenly a good friend, a guardian, maybe even a teacher, to what she had always wanted to be. And so she lived vicariously through Justin, through his art and his distress and inspiration and emotion and through his success. She had planted the seed of New York in Justin's brain, not only because she thought it would be good for him, but also because she could imagine it was actually she, herself, going to The Big Apple rather than Justin. She had hid her greed and self-centeredness under goodwill and selflessness.

Melanie saw her wife clearly for the first time in what seemed like years. After a while, she had forgotten what that polite, smooth WASP expression hid. Now she remembered. She could see the manipulative schemes that were often hidden behind her apologies and assistances. She could see the calculating bitch beneath the sweet pale blonde.

"He's not you." Melanie answered coldly. Lindsay looked up at her with a nearly innocent expression, but underneath she could see the cunning.

"What?"

"He. Isn't. You." Melanie wondered if she needed to spell it out. She knew that Lindsay was conniving sometimes, but this just seemed to not even be comprehendible to her. "He doesn't want to be in New York anymore. He's done with it. I now you'd stay there longer. Hell, you'd stay there forever, but Justin doesn't need to. Everything he needs is here in Pittsburgh."

"Brian's not in a real relationship with Justin. I was talking to Michael the other day. He doesn't think so, either. They can't be in a real relationship. I mean, look what we have compared to what they're like. They break up about every four months or something."

Melanie stifled a scoff. Yeah, what do we have? She thought. Lies and deceit. No trust. No hugely bonding experience or connecting need or anything even resembling the support and codependency that Brian and Justin have on each other. What do we have? Just a ridiculous need to get laid and feel loved and accepted. Oh, yeah, and to try not to hurt the kids.

Instead she snorted. "What? That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I know that Brian and I don't get along, and I know that we've been at odds for years, but even I can see how much he loves Justin. Even I can see that they're a real couple."

"Why the hell are you on Brian's side all of a sudden?" Lindsay glared at her, angry face pinched tight.

"I'm not on Brian's goddamn side, although maybe I should be! I'm just voicing what I think. What the hell is wrong with you? I don't know what to fucking do with you. I'm at the end of my goddamn rope, and you're not helping. I don't think I can stand this insanity. I'm going out, I need some space. No, I don't know when I'll be back. No, I don't know if I'm even going to be coming back."

She grabbed her coat and stepped outside, needing to walk somewhere, anywhere, to get this angry, nervous, furious energy out of her veins. She began to think about her problem, and how to solve this ridiculous muddle and the shambles her marriage was falling back into.

Justin slammed into the loft, hair disheveled and cheeks pink. It wasn't too cold out, but the wind had whipped him around as he had jogged back towards the loft, then detoured and walked briskly about, trying to shake off his anger and restlessness. It hadn't worked, he realized, as he kicked off his shoes and they went flying away from him harder than necessary, slamming down to the floor with a bang.

Brian raised an eyebrow from his desk. "What's your problem?"

Justin yanked off his jacket and tossed over the back of the couch, walking around and joining his garment on the cushions, muttering to himself. "Fucking Lindsay. Goddamn her. How old does she think I am? I can think for myself can't I? I control what I want to do. I'm not some stupid seventeen year old anymore. What the fuck does she think you're doing, chaining me to the bed?"

Brian raised a brow. "Kinky. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Goddamn Lindsay! She thinks—oh fuck, never mind."

"Don't 'never mind,' Sunshine. What does she think?"

"She thinks you're keeping me here in Pittsburgh. That you're forcing me to stay." Brian opened his mouth to say something, but Justin knew what was coming and headed it off. "You're not, Brian. If I wanted to be in New York right now, I would be. You know that. I hated it there after a while. I knew it was time to leave, and it was. And I don't want to go back unless it's only temporary. I make my own goddamn decisions. I belong here, with you, and I don't want to let Lindsay or any of our other so-called 'friends' get in the way of that."

"Our friends are assholes, Justin."

"Yeah, I know." Brian tugged him close. Justin muttered something into his chest and Brian frowned.

"Huh?"

"Chicken soup and fucking French dudes."

Justin felt his lover stifle a laugh. "What the fuck do those two things have to do with anything?"

Justin gritted his teeth at the memory. "Michael came in here and tried to make you chicken soup when you were…sick. If he'd known you at all, especially when you're sick or fucked up, he'd know you never have any food, especially the shit to make chicken soup from fucking scratch! And Lindsay—I think Lindsay tried to marry that French guy just so you could stop her and give up your custody of Gus and she could feel closer to you. And so she could have both you and Mel in her life at the same time. Hell, I think she kinda wanted to marry you instead that frog, just to have you as her own. She's a manipulative little bitch."

"Yeah, I noticed that after she took my kid to Canada."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you more for that."

"Sorry's bullshit, Sunshine. And you were there enough. Everything's pretty much all right now."

"Sort of."

"Right. Sort of."

Justin changed the subject. "What's for dinner?"

"I was thinking Chinese." Justin nodded.

They ordered the food and fooled around until the buzzer rang. Brian let the guy up. A knock on the door signaled the arrival of dinner and Brian slid the door open, raising a brow in surprise as he was greeted by the presence of not one, but two expectant individuals. He paid the delivery guy, who shrugged and headed back downstairs, then moved away from the door to let Melanie in, handing a couple of the takeout boxes to Justin, who went to sit on the sofa.

"Kung Pao chicken?" he offered the frowning attorney, holding out one of the boxes. Melanie shook her head, walking around to standing in front of them as Brian stepped over the back of the couch to sit beside Justin, who had the soy sauce. He took it from him and put it on his food, then looked up.

Brian raised an eyebrow expectantly. Justin just stared at her with a vaguely interested look. She fidgeted for a moment, not used to being caught by both of their stares at the same time. It was worse than any bitchy judge or intense attorney.

"Listen…I don't know how to explain Lindsay's actions. I just want to say to both of you, personally, that I do not agree with her. I believe that you are back here of your own free will, Justin. And I don't think Brian would have the balls to force you to stay here if you really wanted to be in New York, although he might try." Brian frowned, but there was mirth beneath it; he knew it for the compliment that it was. "I know that I was the one who gunned for leaving the country, but after the seeing disaster that my relationship with Lindsay is, I changed my position. I don't think we were ready have anything to do with a change that major, especially with the new start our relationship was going through. I want to apologize for any grief we gave you."

Brian frowned slightly. "What the fuck's all this about?"

Melanie took a breath, rubbing her hands against the sides of her thighs. She looked at the pair seated on the white couch. "I'm going to leave Lindsay. I don't think I can take her crazy ideas and the arguments that she brings up any more."

"Mel, what about Gus and JR? They'll be devastated. I know. I remember what it's like."

Melanie nodded. "I know." She turned to Brian. "That's why I'm willing to give up my custody of Gus. I think. I…I don't want either of our children to be hurting. They need parents that won't ever stop loving them, that will think of the kids' needs first instead of their own. Brian…I think you showed that while we were in Canada. Lindsay and I were too wrapped up in our own fear and our own anger and our own problems, we didn't see that it was hurting our children and that it was hurting us, and even you two as well."

"Jesus Christ, Melanie. Are you sure you want to do this?" Justin blew out an incredulous breath.

Melanie stared at them both, then turned to Brian. "I don't know. Are you willing to give me some time to think about it?"

Brian nodded. Melanie sighed and sagged slightly. Justin jumped up and led her to sit down on couch beside Brian. In a strangely uncharacteristic move, Brian put an arm around her shoulders. This time she was the one to arch a brow.

Brian pushed his tongue into his cheek. "Hey, those who disagree with Lindsay have to stick together. She's got some powerful guns and some heavy ammo."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin forget the drama going on for a night. Emmett and Ted come by to show their support. Michael gets pissed and calls Lindsay. Melanie and Lindsay fight, and Melanie takes Jenny back to Brian's. The trio decides to do something about Lindsay ASAP.

Melanie flipped off the television and sighed, leaning back against the pillows and closing her eyes. It was times like this that she was honestly grateful for Brian Kinney. Without her request, he'd paid for her hotel and made sure she was well cared for, giving her some food and comforting her when she told him and Justin some of the things that had happened in Toronto. The fact that all this craziness had happened just weeks after her and Lindsay's anniversary nearly made her want to laugh. Or cry.

She had no idea what she was going to do about Lindsay. She loved Gus like her own. But she didn't want to have to give up seeing Gus, or seeing any of her friends. This wasn't like last time, they weren't agreeing to disagree, or mutually realizing their problems. Lindsay seemed to actually be mentally unstable, or at least unaware of her actions, and it scared Melanie. She had seen the ruthlessness and the things Lindsay would do when she wanted something, when she had her mind set on something. She didn't know what Lindsay would do when she heard that Melanie was leaving, and taking Jenny Rebecca with her. She just hoped that Brian would protect Gus, and would let her see him every once in a while. She realized that maybe, now that Brian had Justin permanently, they'd be able to take on Lindsay and really truly win.

Rolling onto her side and turning off the light, she decided she'd go down to the legal office tomorrow and take out some papers to research what she'd have to do to give Brian his custody back and make sure Jenny Rebecca was safe. She'd figure out what to do from there.

* * *

By some silent agreement, Brian and Justin both decided that they needed a distraction from all the fucked up seriousness going on. Justin stripped and laid down on the large bed, groaning softly as Brian went through their toy drawer, or rather drawers, showing Justin what he'd be using with a flourish before setting it down beside him.

Within twenty minutes, Justin was tied to the bed, being tortured slowly by Brian's tongue.

"Brian, shit." Justin squirmed futilely against the soft scarves that bound him to the bed, thrusting his hips against the air.

Brian looked up from his ministrations against Justin's inner thigh. "Don't come yet." He breathed against Justin's balls, and reached off to the side of the bed, retrieving something. He held it up with a small grin, and Justin moaned in frustration when he saw the glint of the leather and metal cockring.

"Fuck. You." He huffed out as Brian slid the restraint onto Justin's swollen cock.

"Ah, no, Sunshine. You got that backwards."

"You really like those, don't you?"

"Mm-hmm." He slid back down and lapped again at Justin's balls, letting the spit roll from his tongue down to his hole. Justin's hips bucked at the warm, wet sensation. Sliding his hands down Justin's thighs, Brian shushed the blonde, leaning up to kiss and lick at his mouth. "Already this worked up? I'm barely getting started."

Justin felt Brian's strong fingers running along his body, kneading and massaging, but also simply stroking his skin like a cat. Indeed, it made Justin want to purr. He relaxed into the bed, half forgetting that he was bound, enjoying the sensation of Brian's gentle touch. Then the blunt head of an object pressed persistently against his hole. Justin arched into the pressure, welcoming the smooth tip of the pre-lubed plug inside him. He needed something, anything in his ass right now.

In a smooth movement, Brian pushed the thing all the way in, kissing the tip of Justin's cock before leaning over him and sliding the silky blindfold over the blonde's eyes.

"It really is more amazing this way." Brian purred in his ear. Justin whimpered as a finger ran down his chest, circled a nipple, and ran all the way down to caress his cock and then disappear. He felt the bed move as Brian stood, heard the rustle of clothing, though now that he was blindfolded, he wasn't sure whether it was something being taken off or put on. Then there was silence. And more silence.

Justin began to get antsy. "Brian?" he called. "Bri-ahhhhh…"

Fuck. The plug in his ass vibrated! And it was fucking remote-controlled, too. Damn Brian Kinney. Justin groaned and thrust his hips into the air, slamming them back down onto the bed. The plug shifted and felt amazing. He repeated the action, but the vibrating stopped as his body arched. He groaned.

"Now I can have my way with you." Brian's voice slid smoothly across the room.

"I'm gonna get you back for this!" Justin vowed between gasps, moaning again as the vibrator turned on at a low setting, not strong enough to really stimulate, just enough to tease. He heard Brian's soft chuckle, then felt his fingers encircle his cock. The vibrating clicked up a few notches, and Justin clutched at the cloth tying him down, arching his body. He wished he could come, wished Brian hadn't bound his cock in leather and metal.

When Brian twisted the vibrating plug, Justin tensed his whole body, feeling his cock spurt precum. Brian leaned down to whisper in his ear. "You're very wet, you know that, Justin?" Justin whimpered. "You're so pretty to look at. I think maybe I'll keep you like this all the time."

The vibrator's force lessened just a bit, and Justin thrust back against the bed, trying to increase the pressure. He could feel Brian's eyes on him, and he felt himself blush all the way down to the tips of his toes. An unidentifiable sound tore from his throat as the vibrating cranked all the way up for just a second before dipping back to the barely-there sensation.

Justin gasped, his body jerking. Brian's tongue had begun a pathway along his chest, laving at his nipples before taking them gently between his teeth and sucking them to tiny peaks. His mouth ventured downward, nipping gently and making Justin's body jump with every small pinch of his teeth. He ran a stiffly pointed tongue along the vein on the underside of Justin's cock, tasting his cum and humming in appreciation. Justin moaned and arched toward his mouth. Holding Justin's hips down, Brian breathed hot air on Justin's cock, tantalizing him by every so often blowing cooled air on the engorged member.

"Brian…" Justin pleaded. Brian rolled his eyes but conceded. He turned the vibrator up on one of its highest settings, rotating it and pressing it back inside his lover before pulling it out and turning it off. Justin groaned at the loss, but stiffened in anticipation when he heard the tear of the condom wrapper.

Brian placed his cock against Justin's pulsing entrance, smirking down as the bound man thrust back against him. Then he slide inside Justin, tangling his fingers in the blonde hair and tugging the way Justin liked. His strokes started out slow and deep, but soon were fast and shallow as he reveled in Justin's whimpers and mewls.

"Please, Brian." The breathless request made Brian moan, and he bent down and kissed Justin hard as he released the younger man's cock from its confines. He felt his own climax building up inside of him, buzzing in his belly as it moved down to his groin. A few more thrusts and they were coming together, Justin biting down hard on Brian's shoulder and Brian grunting and crying out as he emptied his seed into the condom.

They lay together for a few moments, letting their breath slow, then Brian reached up and untied Justin, and they curled together to sleep, their minds effectively emptied of the drama of the day.

* * *

A knock on the door woke them, and Justin wandered into the bathroom to take a piss while Brian answered the door in a pair of sweatpants, hair disheveled. Emmett and Ted breezed past him and made themselves comfortable on the couch.

"Hello, boys. Of course you can come in. What the fuck do you want?"

Justin stepped down the stairs and joined Brian, running a gentle hand down his bare back, making his skin tingle. "Hey, Emmett. Hi, Ted. What's up?"

"Well, we just wanted you to know that we think what Lindsay is saying is ridiculous. We fully support you two and Melanie." Ted spoke up.

"We saw Melanie at the diner this morning. Her table was covered in all these legal papers and books and things. When we asked her, she told us what Lindsay had been saying and what she plans to do. We think it's a good thing. I love Linds to death, but the things she's said recently, and the way she's been acting. And especially all the stuff that went on when they were in Toronto and you were in New York, Baby. She's just acting ridiculous! So Teddy and I agreed with Mel. We think you're doing the right thing."

"Yes. And if you ever need our help for anything or whatever—"

"We're here."

Justin stepped over and gave Ted a hug, and hugged and kissed Emmett's cheek. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot to us."

Brian cleared his throat. "Yeah. Thanks, guys."

"Why, you're welcome, Brian! I remember what it was like having the girls in Canada. I think you deserve to have custody of your son, and I think you deserve to have your relationship recognized by the rest of us. Oh, by the way, Debbie says hi to the both of you. And Sweetie, I don't care what Lindsay or Michael says. You can make your own decisions. I hope you know that the rest of us think that as well."

"Thanks, Em."

"Of course, Baby. You know you're my favorite. Besides Calvin, of course. And Teddy." Justin smiled and shook his head, chuckling a little. Emmett checked his watch and jumped up, waving his arms enthusiastically. "I've got to run, boys! I'm planning that 1700's party and the bride is driving me completely insane! Not to mention the smell of horses isn't very pleasant, even if I did grow up in the country. Ta!"

Ted smiled at them. "I guess that means I should be going, too." He and Brian shook hands. Ted gave him a small salute and left as well, closing the door as he followed Emmett out. Brian slid his arms around Justin's waist, settling his head on the blonde's shoulder. Justin ran his hands up Brian's arms, smiling a little.

"Okay, not all our friends are assholes."

"Thank the lord for Theodore and Emmett, here to save the day."

* * *

Michael slammed into the house, causing Hunter to jerk his head up at the loud noise. The teenager rubbed his ears dramatically.

"Jeez! Calm down, will you?" Michael shot him an annoyed look and stomped up the stairs to his room like an impudent child. Hunter rolled his eyes. Michael jerked open the door and flopped down on the bed with a grunt, crossing his arms over his chest. Ben looked up from his book.

"Michael? What's wrong?"

Michael huffed. "Ma said she saw Melanie at the diner this morning. Mel was talking to Ted and Emmett, and Ma heard her say that she was staying in a hotel that _Brian_ bought for her. She was telling them that she's leaving Lindsay, and that she's going to give her parental rights of Gus up to Brian! This is fucking ridiculous!"

"Michael, uh—"

But Michael had hoisted himself off the bed and was stomping down the stairs to the kitchen for the phone. He yanked the phone off its cradle and punched the numbers jerkily. He was nearly tapping his foot as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line.

"Lindsay. Did you hear what Melanie said she was going to do?" he paused, listening. "All you know is that she left last night and hasn't come back? Well, listen to this. Lindsay was telling Emmett and Ted that she's going to leave you. And that she's going to give custody of Gus back to Brian! What? No, I don't know if she said anything about JR. But, if she gives Brian custody, think of the kind of influences he'd have on Gus. It just makes me so mad! What? Yeah, I think you should call her. Or something. Just do something. I don't know, okay. Okay. Talk to you later. All right. Bye."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"This is my house too, Lindsay."

"The hell it is! What are you doing?"

"Looking for the legal papers for my custody of Gus; I'm giving my parental rights back to Brian. Where are those papers, Linds? I know I filed them here."

"No idea." Lindsay innocent expression was a little too wide-eyed to be believed.

Melanie held out her hand. "Give them to me, Lindsay."

"No, I won't."

"Are you seriously going to act that childish?"

"I can't believe you're doing this. Why would you leave me? What are you going to do now, huh?"

"I'm not discussing this with you here. Gus and Jenny are upstairs. I don't want to scare them. Justin was right, they don't need to here us argue."

"Who cares about Gus and Jenny? Who's going to pay for the house, the food, everything! Why are you with Justin and Brian on this? Aren't we supposed to support each other, be a real couple?"

Melanie resisted rolling her eyes. Didn't Lindsay understand that the only real couple in their group of friends was Brian and Justin? They were the only pair that fought out their problems, then made up and most all was well. They were the ones who had been through thick and thin and disaster after disaster, and despite constant separations, they were still together and going strong. They were the only two that didn't say 'I love you' every time they left for work or to go party, or when they went to bed, or got up in the morning, or made breakfast, or decided to go to different bars, or went to go fuck some other guy, because they knew it and they were confident about it; they knew that despite all the craziness in their lives, their love and support for each other would not falter. If only Melanie could find something like that.

She shook herself out of her reverie and glanced at Lindsay. "I'm going upstairs." The blonde opened her mouth to retort. "I won't discuss this with you here."

Lindsay nodded tersely and stepped out of the office and into the kitchen. Melanie padded upstairs to Jenny Rebecca's room. She pushed open the door. Jenny was sitting on the floor, a Malibu Barbie in one hand, a tiny hairbrush in the other.

"Hi, Mommy."

"Hi, Sweetie."

"Mommy, where did you go last night?"

"I had to go do something with Brian. You remember him, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Listen, Jenny. I'm going to take you to a new place. Just for a little while, all right? Mama's still going to be here, and Gus, when we get back, okay?"

Jenny nodded. "Okay."

"Good. Can you do something for me, Honey?" Jenny nodded again. "Can you pack your Dora the Explorer backpack with your favorite clothes and maybe a couple of dolls? I need to go downstairs for a minute. I'll be back in just a sec, and we'll go to the new place."

Melanie kissed Jenny's hair softly, then pushed her toward her Dora backpack and very quietly left the room. Slowly, she slipped downstairs to the office; she could hear Lindsay sloshing pans around in the sink and muttering angrily to herself. Melanie pulled open the drawer on the file cabinet and grabbed up the papers from the three-parent adoption of Jenny Rebecca, folding them neatly in half and stuffing them in her jacket pocket. She hurried back to Jenny's room, where her daughter was waiting for her in the doorway.

"All right, baby, come on." She lifted the little girl onto her hip, pressing a finger to her lips. Jenny mimicked her and stayed silent. Melanie slipped out of the house with Jenny in her arms, hurried to the car Brian had given her, and backed away from the house.

* * *

"She did _what_?" Brian exclaimed loudly.

"Shh!" Melanie pushed the dark hair away from Jenny's peacefully napping face. She replied, her voice hushed, "I think she hid the forms you signed that gave me custody of Gus. Is there somewhere I can put Jenny?"

Justin took the sleeping girl from Melanie's arms and placed her gently on the smaller of the two couches, surrounding her small body with throw pillows so that she wouldn't fall if she rolled over. Melanie sat heavily down in one of the chairs by the kitchen counter. Brian handed her a glass of Beam. She gave him a grateful look and tossed it back.

"We have to get them back." Justin declared.

"I'll do it. I'm not going to let her fuck up my kid's life."

"You can't, Brian." When Brian glared and opened his mouth to retort, she held up a hand in defense. "If you go over there, and you yell at her or threaten her, she can fuck everything up and say you're not fit for custody."

"Shit." Brian poured himself his own glass and tossed it back. Justin patted Melanie's hand and nudged Brian's shoulder with his own. "We'll do it. Together."

Mel frowned, then nodded. With Justin, a neutral, or at least neutral where the law was concerned, party with them, things might work out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian, Justin and Melanie confront Lindsay. Michael is concerned for his daughter and convinced that Lindsay, Mel and Brian's custody battle is his problem. Justin reassures Brian and the legal process is started.

Emmett flopped down in the booth beside Ted, leaning most of his weight on the other man.

"Whew! Well, all the planning and scheduling and buying is done, now all that's left is the actual wedding!"

"Con…gratulations?" Ted said slowly.

"Thanks, Teddy!" Ted nodded, waiting until Emmett finished giving Kiki his order.

"Do you think the lawyer will grant Brian rights to Gus?" he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"I really hope so." Emmett's voice turned sympathetic. "Brian deserves to be part of his son's life. He's really not as bad as some people say he is. I know he cares about all of us. And you know, he really, really does love Gus."

"I know. He wouldn't have let Melanie and Lindsay walk all over him like he did if he didn't love him." Emmett nodded gravely.

"You know, I think I'll offer to put in my two cents about him with the custody lawyer. That is, if he needs it."

"That sounds like a good idea, Em."

* * *

"Yeah?" Brian asked the intercom.

"It's Melanie. I don't know your code."

"Come on up." He buzzed her in. Justin raised a brow but continued to work on his charcoal drawing. Brian sat back down at his computer and saved the files he had been working on. They both looked up again when the door rumbled open.

"Hey, Mel." Justin put down his charcoal stick and went to give her a hug. She embraced him, nodding a hello to Brian, who nodded back. She sat with Justin on the couch.

"Where's Jenny Rebecca?"

"Emmett's got her. She's probably all decked out in makeup and glitter right now, but she loves her Auntie Em." She smiled for a moment, then turned serious. "So, how are we going to do this?"

Brian raised a brow from his seat behind the desk. "Deal with your unfortunate choice for a wife?"

"You're one to talk, asshole." But there was no malice in it; the pair were no longer truly at odds.

Justin brought them back on topic. "Since I'm the only one who this won't affect legally, I was thinking I should do it. Or at least, I should be the one who does the talking, because that wont affect custody issues with either of you." Melanie nodded.

"The sooner we do this, the better. The more time Lindsay has to plan what she's going to say or do, the more likely it'll be that she'll do something drastic."

"Don't law firms usually keep copies of these papers?"

"Yeah, and I looked. I think the copies may have been lost in their transference to Canada. So the one I know for certain that we have is the one that Lindsay's got."

"So we go today?"

"We go today."

"What are we going to do?" Justin asked, watching Brian as he shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Beam and pouring each of them a glass.

"Well, she's hidden the papers somewhere, I think. Thanks," she took the proffered glass. "We need to get her to give them to us, and I really don't want to have to fight. I'm tired of yelling."

Brian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is fucking ridiculous. I just want my son to have something fucking better than—than what I had."

Melanie watched as Justin got up from the couch and leaned up to Brian, pressing their foreheads together. She could see his fingers tangled in the hair at the back of Brian's neck, stroking soothingly. He whispered something that she could not understand. Brian nodded and smiled a little as Justin kissed the side of his mouth. Melanie looked away, feeling suddenly like she'd just witnessed a moment much too private for her eyes.

When Justin sat back down, Brian looked considerably more normal. He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Why don't we just go in without a plan, and be ready for anything. That's the best plan anyone can have."

"You're right, I guess." Melanie lifted one shoulder towards her ear. "With Lindsay, nothing is ever certain."

Two hours later after discussing what Brian could and could not do or say, they squeezed into the Corvette and drove toward what used to be Melanie and Lindsay's house.

"Mel…" Justin's voice was cautious. "Who's going to get the house?"

Again, Melanie shrugged. "I don't know, Sweetie. We're just going to have to figure it all out."

They were silent the rest of the drive. Melanie was the first one out of the car when they pulled into the driveway. Justin got out and joined her, looking up at the house where he had, not long ago, scolded off Lindsay for other indiscretions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brian get out of the car and subtly square his shoulders, pulling his lips into his mouth and then exhaling as if readying for a battle. Together they stepped up to the porch, waiting with bated breath as Melanie unlocked the door.

* * *

"Lindsay said that Melanie took JR. Just left, like that, with our daughter!" Michael was pacing back and forth in his bedroom. Ben sat on the bed, propped against the headboard with a reluctantly abandoned book by his side.

Ben realized that he'd been doing that a lot lately, watching Michael pace as he queened out about something or another. He sighed. "JR's her daughter, Michael. She's allowed to take her with her someplace."

Michael didn't understand his husband's patient understanding of the situation. It was all so fucked up. Brian was trying to get custody of his son for some ridiculous reason, Melanie and Lindsay were splitting up, and Melanie was running around Pittsburgh with his kid. He didn't know which thing to deal with first.

"Michael, maybe you should just stay out of this one. I don't know, let the three of them work it out. It doesn't concern you as much as the rest of them."

"Bullshit, it doesn't concern me! That's my daughter they're risking. It certainly does concern me."

Ben sighed. He had no idea how to get through to his husband. Sometimes Michael was just ridiculous and Ben's logical and peaceful mind had no idea how to decipher the way the other man was thinking. "JR's not in any risk, Michael. Melanie loves her daughter, and I'm pretty sure Brian and Justin will make sure she's got the right place to stay and the right things she needs."

Michael blew an angry puff of air out through his nose. It always seemed to come back to Brian and Justin.

* * *

For a moment, it was quiet, and the three of them stood in the foyer, looking around at the parts of the house that still looked new and just barely unpacked. Then Lindsay came stomping in from the back of the house.

"What the hell do you want now, Melanie? I told you—" She stopped when she reached the entryway, shocked for a moment at seeing Justin and Brian there with her as well. Then she recovered quickly, her face smoothing over into the WASPish mask of politeness that Justin knew all too well from growing up. "Hello, Brian, Justin. What a surprise to see you here."

"Is Gus here?" Justin inquired, as Brian simultaneously demanded, "Where's my son?"

"He's in the backyard, playing with his action figures." She answered. "Why?"

"Good." Justin stepped forward. Now it was his turn, and he wasn't going to let Brian down. He knew how to play her game, he had grown up with people like her, people with the instinct of subtle manipulation and imperious disdain hidden behind polite remarks. "We need to talk."

"We do?"

Now Melanie stepped forward. "I need the folder with the papers for my custody of Gus. I don't care where you hid them, you need to give them back."

"Mel, what are you talking about?" Her voice and face were deceptively impassive. She turned to Justin. "I don't know what she told you, but I don't have any papers, or any folder."

Brian took a step forward, but Justin's hand on his arm kept him behind them both. Melanie realized, even through her anger at Lindsay, that the pair always seemed to protect each other, each shielding the other from whatever might cause them pain.

"Lindsay…" Melanie warned.

"I don't have anything."

Justin held his hand out, palm up. "Give it to her." He bit each word off, one by one. Lindsay's gaze lifted to his, but she quickly glanced down; there was a fiery anger in the blue orbs that she was not used to seeing, and it frightened her. She could see in the flash of his eyes what he was probably capable of doing, especially now, when it had to do with the happiness of his partner.

"I—" Three pairs of eyes glared accusingly at her, and her shoulders dropped, defeated. She turned and walked to the back of the house, and came back with a legal sized folder. She placed it in Justin's outstretched hand, and he gave it to Melanie. The lawyer scrutinized it for a moment, then nodded. All the documents were there.

Lindsay blew out an angry breath. With her hands on her hips, she turned to Brian. "Do you really think you'll be a good fucking father? After the way you grew up? After the way you passed him off to Justin when he was an infant? After you never came to see him when we were living here, just an 'uncredited cameo appearance'? After the fact that you rarely ever came up to see him when we were living up North? All you ever do is throw money at the situation. I don't see how you could possibly be able to handle a child."

Brian stared at her, shocked. He had no reply. Justin could see the hurt in his lover's eyes; that blow had struck perfectly. Melanie glared, but did not react.

"Expect a call from both my and Brian's lawyers in the next few days," Melanie advised her ex. Brian tried not to acknowledge or react to the blonde woman standing there, instead he wrapped an arm around Justin's shoulders and they trouped out of the house.

* * *

Brian sighed as he stripped off his suit. He hadn't been able to concentrate on work at Kinnetic, because his mind kept slipping to what Lindsay had said to him. As Justin rubbed the tension out of his shoulders, he turned to him on the bed.

"Maybe Lindsay is right. Maybe I'll be a shitty father. I mean, what kind of example did I have?"

"Brian. You are not your father, you are never going to be your father."

"How do you know?"

"Because. Okay, let me ask you something. If Gus did something wrong, broke something of yours or stole something or whatever, what would you do?"

"I'd tell him that he fucked up. I'd make him fix whatever it was that he did. I'd tell him to learn from it."

"Would you hit him?"

"What? Hell no. I know what that's like. It doesn't fucking work. And it makes everything worse."

"See? That's how I know you're not your father. And you're so fucking kind and selfless."

Brian barked out a laugh. "What planet are you living on, Sunshine?"

"I'm serious, Brian. You help everyone. You saved my life, you helped me get my art back—"

"That's because I actually like you."

"You sacrificed your friendship with Michael to make him go with David."

"Yeah. Look how that turned out."

"You gave Lindsay and Melanie money whenever they needed it. You signed over your rights to Gus because it would get Mel and Linds back together." Brian was about to interrupt again, but Justin held up a hand. "You didn't tell your mother about Reverend Buttfuck. You paid for my tuition. You gave up all your money, your fucking _job_ , to bring down Stockwell. You told me I was an ass for joining the Pink Posse, but you let me make my own mistakes even though I know you worried about me every night. You surprised Michael and Ben with a fucking party in the middle of nowhere after their wedding—yes, he told me about that. You let Mel and Linds walk all over you, just because you thought it would be beneficial for Gus. You bought that guy a fucking _lawyer_ and encouraged him to prosecute his bashers, without a second thought." He put a hand to Brian's face. "You let me go. Multiple times, even though I know it hurt you. You are the most generous person I've ever met in my life, and I fucking love you for it."

He pulled Brian's face close and kissed him softly, lapping at his mouth. He felt Brian's body relax, felt at least some of the tension seep out. He nipped at Brian's lips, wrapping his arms around his lover's body. Brian got the message, sliding his fingers under Justin's shirt to tug it off. Justin's hand's roamed across his back as they kicked off their pants.

Brian kissed Justin, wanting to bury himself in the heat of the other man's mouth. His fingers found their way to blonde hair, and he fisted the strands, tugging lightly as he devoured Justin. The blonde's hands caressed his neck, squeezing gently. Brian slowed just a little, pulled back. He nuzzled the side of Justin's face, huffing softly against the pearly skin. Then they were falling back on the bed, and Brian was pulling Justin to his knees, running his tongue down his lover's spine.

"Brian…" Justin murmured.

Brian slid a hand up Justin's side, then reached over to the dresser for a condom and lube. He slicked himself and Justin up and pushed inside, grunting softly as Justin pushed back against him.

His first strokes were slow; he was fixating on how smooth the skin of Justin's back looked in the blue light. But then Justin's hand was reaching back, pressing on his thigh, fingernails digging in, and Brian's thrusts grew faster, pressing relentlessly against Justin's prostate, making him moan deep in his chest. Brian could feel his groans through his cock, vibrating up his body and making his head swim.

Sliding his fingers into Justin's hair, he gripped the strands and yanked Justin's head back, leaning down to attack his lover's neck with lips and teeth and tongue. He nibbled on Justin's ear, groaning as Justin gasped and clenched around him.

Justin turned his head, capturing Brian's lips with his own in a bruising kiss. Brian slid down, his hands roaming from Justin's shoulders down his arms to twine their fingers together as they came, gasping against each other. They flopped down onto the bed, spent, and Brian kissed Justin's neck gently as the blond reached behind and stroked the back of his neck with soothing, massaging fingers.

"Sunshine…" Brian's eyes were soft, his mouth open just a little.

Justin nodded, smiling a little. "I know." He kissed the corner of Brian's mouth, then snuggled up against him as Brian's arms wrapped around his body. "G'night, Bri."

"Night, Sunshine." Brian sighed, closing his eyes and letting Lindsay's words leave his brain as he felt Justin's body press against his in slumber.

* * *

"Bri." Justin shook his lover's shoulder. Brian groaned and buried his face further beneath the pillow. "Brian. Wake up. We need to go to lawyer's office in a few hours."

The pillow spat out Brian's head, mussing his hair up into an even more impressive bird's nest. "Fuck. Alright, okay, I'm up."

Justin started up the shower, listening to his lover's morning bitching and moaning with a slight smile. He knew Brian was nervous as hell about meeting with the lawyer, and wanted more than anything to give Gus a good life. He began to tug off his sweatpants just as Brian joined him in the bathroom. They stepped together into the shower.

Justin soaped Brian's back, rubbing his shoulders gently; he could feel the tension already present in the man's muscles. "It's gonna work out, Brian. I promise, it will." Brian nodded, but didn't look like he quite believed it. Justin pressed gently on one of Brian's shoulders until he turned around, then he slid down his lover's body and wrapped his lips around Brian's cock, determined to calm his lover down, if only for a bit.

One blowjob and shower-doused makeout session later, they emerged from the shower and dressed. Justin scarfed down his breakfast while Brian spent twenty minutes perfecting his "I rolled out of bed looking this beautiful" hair.

They parked outside of the building, both tense with nerves. Before they stepped inside, Brian took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh of air, squared his shoulders, rubbing his mouth with his hand. Justin leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. Giving him a wan smile, Brian opened the door and the two of them entered the building.

They were unsurprised to find that Melanie had beaten them there, and that both her lawyer and Brian's were present. Brian's lawyer shook Justin's hand.

"Trevor Holstead."

Justin smiled politely. "Justin Taylor. I'm Brian's…." He paused, still uncertain as to what to call himself. "Partner." The man nodded.

Melanie's lawyer also shook his and Brian's hands. "Bradley Standford."

They sat down. Holstead nodded at Brian and then turned to Melanie, spread his hands out on the table. "So, you want to give Brian your custody of your son, Gus?"

"Yes," Melanie folded her hands in her lap and nodded, expression stoic. "My…ex-partner, Lindsay Peterson, and I moved up to Canada just under four years ago. We….had a rough time there, and we fought quite a bit. Our two children, my daughter Jenny Rebecca and Brian and Lindsay's son Gus, were caught in the middle. At the time, we were thinking more about ourselves and our own problems rather than the welfare and happiness of our children. At present, I believe that I have the ability and means to look after Jenny Rebecca's best interests and to care for her well being. I am also of the opinion that Brian should have a say in his own son's life, and I think it would be best for both Brian and Gus for Brian to have custody and a constructive role in Gus's life."

The lawyers nodded. Holstead looked now at Brian. "Do you have proof, whether oral or in writing, that you are fit, prepared and qualified to care for and support your biological son?"

Brian nodded, but looked nervous, although no one would know it except Justin, who put a hand gently on his lover's left arm. "I do. I make extremely good money and I own my own advertising business. I see my son as often as Lindsay and Melanie have allowed, and he calls me 'Daddy.' I am aware of his medical records, of when he's been sick and of how to treat him. My relationship with Justin is…relatively stable. And Justin loves Gus like his own; he's been around since the day Gus was born."

Justin nodded. This seemed to be his cue for his own input. "Brian loves his son. He gave up his custody originally because he thought it would be better for Gus. I've seen him with Gus. He's everything a father should be. He's helping Gus with preschool, he babysat him, he took care of him. He did everything a custodial father would do."

"Mr. Holstead," Melanie included. "Mr. Kinney has also paid a great deal of money for the care of Gus, ever since his son was first born." She gestured to Brian, who handed her the papers of financial records that had been tucked away in his jacket. She slid them across the table to the lawyers. "Though he has no legal obligations, Brian has always given us financial help if it concerns his son. In the past, I fear we may have abused this privilege, but I do not think that will occur again. He put Gus's needs before his while we were living in Toronto. Even with his…past…I feel he would be an extremely capable father."

"His past?"

Brian cleared his throat, blinking. He looked down, his right hand reaching over to fidget with Justin's fingers on his other arm. "I was raised in a verbally and physically abusive household. My…my father used to drink excessively and come home and…beat the sh—beat me…quite often, until I was about seventeen. My mother did nothing. She and my father would tell me I was worthless and selfish and a f—and…other things. My father was also abusive to her and my older sister, but…I—bore the brunt of his anger."

Taking a breath, he squeezed Justin's hand gently as if to steady himself, then he raised his head and looked straight into Holstead's eyes. "I do not want to be the kind of person my father was. I want my son to have the happy, normal childhood I did not. I want my son to be able to experience and have the things that I did not. A son should not fear his father. Because of the way I grew up, I do not practice violence. I refuse to put any person, any child through those conditions."

Holstead scrutinized him for a moment, then nodded. "I believe you are telling the truth, Mr. Kinney." He looked at Melanie. "And you are sure you want to give up custody of Gus Peterson to his biological father?"

"I am."

"I plan to give her full visitation rights, Mr. Holstead. I trust Ms. Marcus, and I believe she loves Gus as a mother." Melanie looked surprised, but Holstead nodded.

"That will be taken into account. The papers will be drawn up very soon. Thank you."

The group stood. Brian and Justin shook the hands of the two lawyers. Melanie shook Holstead's hand, but waved off the pair who looked at her expectantly. They left together, Brian's arm around Justin's shoulders, but not before Justin caught the words 'Jenny Rebecca,' 'three parent adoption,' and 'custody' before the door closed behind them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie tells Lindsay that she plans to revoke Lindsay's parental rights of JR. Ben is getting more and more fed up with Michael. Brian gets good news as Melanie worries. Justin and Brian deal with something that has been haunting them for years.

"What?" Lindsay's voice was shrill with annoyance, tinny over the phone. "What are you going to say, Melanie? You use that apologetic tone of voice with the words 'I have to tell you something.' That usually means that you're doing something completely selfish and only looking after yourself."

"Jesus Christ, Lindsay. You seriously think I'm only considering myself. Excuse me, but I am looking after the welfare and happiness of my daughter. I seem to remember a conversation some years ago where you told me to do just that."

"So spit it out. What are you siccing on me this time?"

"I…" Melanie sighed. She'd been with Lindsay for almost fourteen years, give or take their various infidelities, and it still hurt to do these things. "I'm petitioning to revoke your custody of Jenny Rebecca. I don't—"

"What."

"You heard me."

"This is ridiculous! I thought you wanted me to be Jenny Rebecca's mother. I thought we were partners, that we'd stand up for each other. And suddenly…Why is everyone suddenly ganging up on me?"

"Lindsay, I feel like we shouldn't be discussing this. I've made my decision, and I wont be changing my mind. I just wanted to let you know so that you wouldn't be surprised when the legal processes began."

"But—"

"I don't consider you fit to look after my daughter. You've become so extreme. You get distraught over such little things. You exaggerate and turn the smallest occurrences into wild fantasies. You don't seem to be looking after the wellbeing of the children, and I think you are more focused on yourself than the kids. I don't think that is a healthy environment for a child."

"What, and a hotel is?"

"I'll be getting an apartment, temporarily."

"So we're just going through this whole divorce thing again?"

Melanie sighed. It was true, they were. "I suppose so."

Lindsay's voice was hard and cold on the other end of the phone. "I see."

Blinking back sudden tears, Melanie announced, "Call my lawyer from now on if you want to talk about this." Then she hung up.

* * *

Ben entered Red Cape Comics, perching himself on a stool by the counter and setting a bag of sandwiches on the table. He could hear Michael slamming around in the back, muttering to himself. He sighed. He really didn't like it when Michael got worked up, though he realized it was probably genetic, doubly so since his father was apparently a drag queen. But, he loved him, and so he would put up with it. Still, this was getting a little ridiculous, Ben was still of the mind that all this drama with Melanie, Gus, Lindsay and Brian did not concern Michael, and that he shouldn't be messing with other people's business.

The subject of his thoughts came bustling out of the back carrying a box under one arm and an extra display rack clumsily under the other. He dropped the display rack shakily on the ground and slammed the box down on the counter, narrowly missing squashing the sandwiches. Michael looked up at Ben for a moment before tearing off the tape on the box and beginning to sort through the comics inside.

"So Lindsay called an hour ago," Ben silently prayed that it wouldn't be a big one this time. "Apparently, Mel wants to take away her custody of JR. What the hell?" No such luck. Ben pulled the sandwiches out of a bag, took a chance and offered one to Michael to see if he would shut up. Michael shook his head, refusing the food, and continued to slam the comics into sorted piles. "Uh, no. Fucking bull dyke lawyer. She has no right to do that, Lindsay is JR's mother, just as much as Melanie. They told me that years ago, remember? The bitch hired a lawyer and everything, just jumped right into it, didn't even give us time to think about it. She's so fucking selfish, always thinking about herself."

"Calm down, Michael. You have to think about this in a reasonable way."

"Why does everyone always tell me that?"

Ben did _not_ want to get into that. That question alone was a whole other can of worms. Instead, he put his hand on top of one of Michael's. "Listen, Michael. Remember how hard it was just to get up to Toronto to see JR and the girls?" Michael nodded. "Remember how exhausted they all seemed when we went up to visit, especially Mel? She worked her ass off up there. She went to school all over again and held a job as a legal assistant. She made whatever sacrifice she could for her children's happiness. She's looking after her child's needs, Michael. And I think we should respect that."

"But—"

"Michael, hold on. She's not threatening your custody of JR. She's not forcing Lindsay out of their house or taking everything away. She's simply doing what she thinks is right."

"Ben, I—"

Ben sighed. This wasn't working. He put his hands on Michael's shoulders, deciding to be a hell of a lot more blunt than usual. "Michael. Michael, can we just give this a rest for a little while? I'd like to spend time with you, without hearing about Melanie or Lindsay or Brian. Please? Just you and me?"

His husband stared at him, then nodded. "Okay. Alright."

* * *

Almost a week later, a call came. Brian was sprawled out on the couch, naked, his head back as Justin sucked him off. Justin lapped gently at the underside of his cock before looking up.

"Wanna get that?"

Brian tangled his fingers in Justin's hair, pressing his head down. "I'll let it go to voicemail. Keep going."

Justin wrapped his lips around Brian again. The ringing stopped and was interrupted by the beep of the message machine, and then, "I'm not here, leave a message."

"Mr. Kinney, this is Trevor Holstead. I'm calling to tell you that your custody of Gus Peterson will most probably be granted within two or three weeks. Congratulations."

Justin grinned, and looked up into Brian's face. Brian's eyes were shining, a smile on his face happier than Justin had ever seen him before. Brian's hands tugged him up and they were hugging, and Justin was kissing Brian all over.

"Congratulations, Mr. Kinney." Justin whispered in Brian's ear. "That's some kickass birthday present, huh?"

Brian tried, but he couldn't keep the grin from getting wider. Then it turned mischievous and he leaned in to Justin's ear, eyes flashing. "Wanna celebrate?"

* * *

"Our friends are completely insane." Emmett sighed.

"Yeah, well, that's why we love them." Ted raised his eyebrows.

"Sometimes, Teddy, I just want to shake them. Brian and Justin and Mel, they're doing such a good job. Justin was telling me that Brian's lawyer called last week and said he'd get custody of Gus soon. And it's his birthday tomorrow; that seems like the perfect sort of gift.

"If he can stand the whole age thing." Ted quipped.

"Oh, he'll survive, get a dye job and kiss Justin and still looking fucking fabulous. Which is wonderful, but what's going on with poor Lindsay? She's changed so much since the girls moved to Canada."

"People change, Em. You know that."

Emmett nodded. "I just never expected her to end up that…extreme."

"You know she's always been a little dramatic."

"Uh huh. But to act like that to Mel, who's been her partner for years? It's almost frightening. I don't know what happened up north, or why she's begun to act this way, but I feel like our friend Lindsay has disappeared."

"I know how you feel. By the way, have you heard from Michael and Ben lately?"

"Not really. They seem to be keeping to themselves." He glanced out the window at the bustling street, then clapped his hands a little. "But, on a happier note, Jenny Rebecca _adores_ me. I can't wait till she's old enough to learn all that I have to teach. A young learner, ready to be educated in the ways of fabulousness!"

Ted snorted and shook his head.

* * *

Justin entered the diner slowly. He really shouldn't have to work on a Saturday, but he needed something to take his mind off things, and Saturday nights were the busiest, so it would work. Brian was working late at Kinnetic, probably with the same plan in his head. Debbie gave him a rib-cracking hug and kissed him on the cheek when she saw him.

"Hey, Sunshine."

"Hi, Deb." He tied on his apron and picked up the plastic tub for bussing dishes.

Her voice softened and she leaned close, a hand on his arm. "By the way, Sweetie, don't forget to take some lemon bars with you when you leave, on the house. I know what today is, you both might need some."

Justin nodded and moved away, but he had no intention on bringing home pastries. It had been years, and many of the demons of the even that had occurred this night had been vanquished, either by his art or Brian's love or by his stupid run with the Pink Posse. He didn't really need much comfort for this day any more. Most years he had just stayed inside and painted, or talked to Daphne on the phone. There was still a pinch of regret for the blank space in his memory where the prom should have been, for the lost hours that should have been the happiest moment of his life. But it was the past now. He shook his head and concentrated on the group calling for their order to be taken.

* * *

Melanie lay in bed in her hotel room, Jenny Rebecca curled into her side, snoring softly. She rubbed the little girl's back and stared up at the ceiling, wondering when her life had become such a mess. She wondered what had happened to make Lindsay like this, what had fallen apart in their relationship and in the other woman's mind that could make this happen. She wondered what was going to happen to Gus, what was going to happen to Jenny. She hoped all this legal crap would go well, what would happen if it didn't. She wondered how she would cope without a person she'd lived with for so long, without someone to share her past, her life, her love, her children with. The ceiling stared blankly back and gave no answers.

* * *

Justin rode the elevator up to the loft, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. The diner on a Saturday night was chaos that was almost too ridiculous to comprehend. When he reached the loft, he pushed of the wall with a sigh and went to the door, sliding it open. Inside it was dim, only a few lights on. Justin bit his lower lip, frowned.

"Brian?"

A small clinking noise from the couch brought his attention. Brian was slumped, half-sitting, half-laying on the couch, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, with plenty more bottles of various alcohol, both empty and full, surrounding him on the floor. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, dangerously close to the fabric of the sofa. Brian's head shifted a little at the sound of his voice, but he didn't respond. Justin stepped over to him. Brian's eyes were shadowed, sunken from lack of sleep. When he turned to Justin, they were dull and full of an aching, deep-set pain.

"Brian?" Justin sat down gingerly beside his lover. "Is this how you've spent today for the last three years?"

Brian scoffed out a dark, drunken laugh. "I've done this every year; you were just never around to fucking see."

"What do you mean, I—"

His words were weary, as if they'd gone round and round in his head for years. "That first year you were with the fiddle fuck. Then you were in L.A. Then New York. You were never around."

"Brian…" Justin didn't know what to say. "I…I thought you'd gotten over it." Brian's hand slid across his shoulders, up his neck until he felt gentle fingers rubbing at the small raised scar on the right side of his head.

"I thought I'd get over it by now, too, that it would go away, but…..fuck! I can't get it out of my head. I just…." He pressed the bottle against his face, closing his eyes and grimacing, unable to keep his mind from venturing to a place he only ever visited in nightmares, never awake because it hurt too much. Brian dropped the bottle, shoved off the couch and strode unsteadily to the window, wrapping his arms around himself, rocking just a little.

Justin got up, followed him across the room. He could hear Brian breathing hard though his nose, could see the tension in his shoulders. He had to stifle a small intake of breath when Brian's fingers slid beneath his shirt and tugged out the scarf, still white in places, the rusty blood paled now to a faded brownish plum. Brian threaded it through his fingers and then clenched his hand around it like a morbid rosary.

"We danced, Justin. And it was amazing. It was more than amazing. You were smiling at me the whole time, and I couldn't see anything else, it was like you were the only thing in the fucking world. And I was actually happy. I mean, I thought I was going to surprise you and make you happy for just an hour or two, but the truth is, it was the happiest I'd been in years. And I think you knew it, too. You could see it, you could see what I was saying to you. Because that was when I knew that I….And then _he_ came and fucked it all up. And I can't…I can't…"

Justin stepped close, raised his hand and touched Brian's back gently. "You saved me, Brian. You saved my life. You're the _reason_ I'm alive."

Brian wheeled around then, staring at him. Justin had never seen him look so raw, so torn open. His eyes held pain so embedded in the depths of him that Justin could not see the bottom. His gaze flicked from Justin's face to his right temple, and he shuddered, then moved suddenly, pushing past Justin and pacing back to the couch, clutching the scarf in his hands. He didn't sit, but instead stood in front of the couch, head down, shoulders hunched. Justin stopped about a foot away from his back. When he spoke, his voice was rough, stopping and starting with aching difficulty, as if the words were being dragged up from some painful, awful place deep inside of him.

"Your fucking heart stopped in the ambulance. Stopped. Just….the little beeping signal, it was there, and then suddenly….it wasn't. It wasn't there and there was so much noise and you weren't moving or breathing or…" Brian half-sat, half-crumpled onto the couch. His eyes were cast down to his hands, but they turned to Justin, full of agony and raw aching guilt. "You have no idea how much I wanted it to be me on that stretcher. You have _no idea._ "

A small keening sound, like a wounded animal, tore from his throat. He curled in on himself then, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, tensing himself into a ball, a motion that seemed so vulnerable and out of character that Justin was a tiny bit frightened. Brian was staring at a spot somewhere just past Justin's knee, but his eyes were wide with fear and unfocused, moving a bit as he watched the memory unfold in front of him. Justin could only watch the past as it flickered across his lover's face.

"I just couldn't get there _fast enough_. I could see, like I was watching it in slow motion, or something. You were smiling at me, you were so happy, and then he hit you….the sound it made…." Brian groaned, shaking his head. A horrible grimace of pain slashed across his features, and in the next moment it was again replaced by the raw, aching stare.

"You were fine, you were happy, you were alive, and then you weren't, you weren't moving, you weren't waking up. And there was so much blood, so much, and you just laid there. And I could feel you—I could _feel_ you dying, I could feel it. I couldn't let it happen. I think I called someone. I don't remember. I just, I couldn't let you go, and you wouldn't wake up. I had to watch you dying, I had to hold you in my arms and I could see it. I could fucking _see_ you leaving me, I watched it happening, and there was nothing I could do. I wouldn't let go, I was screaming at them; they had to pull me off you to get you in the ambulance. I was so fucking scared. I didn't know whether you were allergic to the things they were giving you. I…And then your heart…and you…."

He shuddered again, twisting the crumpled scarf in his fingers. Justin felt like his heart was breaking as he listened to the pain in Brian's voice. He took a step forward, reaching out, but then thought better of it. Touching Brian right now might be the worst possible thing, so Justin suppressed to incredibly strong urge to just go to him and hold him. Brian exhaled roughly, clenching his hands into fists. "Christ!"

Justin realized suddenly that Brian had shoved the memories away and tried to forget; he'd kept these things, these horrible visions locked deep inside him for years, letting them eat away at his emotions and fester, rotting within. He, Justin, had had many forms of release for his pain and trauma, but Brian had none.

The older man went on. The pain seemed to be seeping from every pore, it seemed he didn't have control over whether the words poured from his body or not; all the memories and agony were shoving their way out of him, even if it tore him apart. "They brought you back. And I just—just couldn't let go of your hand. And then they took you back into the emergency room and they wouldn't tell me what was going on and I had to just sit there, just fucking sit there for _hours_. I didn't know if you were alive or dead, whether you were going to survive. All I had was a bloody fucking scarf—your blood all over me. I didn't sleep for _days_ , because every time I closed my eyes I watched it happen over and over again. I tried to keep you safe. I can't keep anyone safe. I just…" He shook his head, let out a shaking breath, trying to keep the unbearable images from surfacing in his mind, but it was futile.

Finally, Justin moved, sinking onto the couch beside him and wrapping his arms gently around Brian. The older man didn't move from his curled position, didn't remove his gaze from the wall. Justin whispered Brian's name, slid a hand across his chest and up to cup his cheek. He expected Brian to pull away, or shove his hand down, but instead he leaned into Justin's warm palm, pushed his face into it, a soft whimper escaping on a wobbly sigh as he squeezed his eyes closed and leaned against his lover. Justin tried to ignore the clench in his stomach that came because Brian was never this vulnerable, never needed him this badly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling his own warm breath pass Brian's ear. "I'm sorry, Brian. I'm so, so sorry." He was sorry for Brian having to hold all of this in for so long, sorry for the fact that he'd never been able to remember that night, sorry for him having to take care of Justin for so long when he was healing, while Brian was still hurting from that night as well, sorry for the fact that Brian had showed him love, and that he'd been damaged by it and because of that he had hidden his emotions behind walls again, afraid that if he made himself vulnerable another time, someone would be hurt. Brian shook his head as if in pain, groaned softly and pressed himself a little further against Justin. They both stared out across the room, lost in memories. Justin broke the stillness when Brian's weight on his shoulder became too much.

"Come on, Brian." He slipped his arm around Brian's shoulders, gently coaxed him up and together they made their way to the bed. Brian undid his pants and shucked them off, and his underwear, then fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Justin helped it off him and rid himself of his own clothes before joining his lover in bed. Rolling over to face him, Brian reached out and pulled Justin close, wrapping himself around the younger man, huffing a watery breath in his ear. Justin returned the embrace, and felt Brian's arms tighten, clutching him closer. They lay together with their eyes closed, each breathing the other's breath, but sleep did not come easy.

* * *

Justin woke abruptly at around four AM. The only reason he knew the time was because he was staring directly at the glowing numbers of his digital alarm clock when he opened his eyes. A strange sound had pierced the fog of his slumbering brain, and he heard it again, though he was still not awake enough to register exactly what it was. He frowned a little and wondered if Brian was awake, if he was hearing it too. Rolling over, he was about to reach out to shake his lover awake, when he stopped.

The solid shape of Brian's back loomed beside him, muscles accentuated in shadow and blue lights. Brian's head was down, hidden within his hands. His shoulders were shaking. The sound came again, and Justin was startled to realize what it was he had heard.

Brian Kinney was crying.

Justin sat up slowly and put a tentative hand on the man's back. Brian was trembling, shuddering. Justin moved to place his hand on his lover's shoulder, to stroke his cheek, but Brian suddenly grabbed it, turning himself around and tugging Justin back down, wrapping his arms and legs around the blonde. He saw Brian's face before he hid it; he looked terrified, devastated, worse than Justin had ever felt upon awakening from a nightmare. Justin could feel him shaking hard as he buried his face in his shoulder, hot tears landing on sensitive flesh. He clutched at Justin, breathing hard and murmuring words into his skin, things Justin wasn't sure he was supposed to hear. Then Brian's grip tightened even more, his head raised just a little bit until his nose was nudging at Justin's jaw.

"Don't." he whispered, shuddering violently in Justin's arms.

"What?" Tears landed now on Justin's cheek as Brian pressed his face hard against the side of Justin's head.

"Don't. Don't you dare." His whisper was hoarse, his words coated with fear and unbearable pain, his clutching fingers needy. "Don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare leave me here alone."

Justin's chest clenched, his breath caught on the lump suddenly in his throat. "Oh God, Brian. I won't. I won't."

An intake of breath that sounded like a surprised gasp at a response jerked into a sob, and the trembling fingers of Brian's hand reached over to trace the small white scar on the right side of Justin's head. Brian's shivering worsened, he was shaking, his face pale even in the dim light, his eyes wide and wet.

"Promise me. You have to promise. Don't fucking leave. You can't."

Justin pulled Brian closer to him, closing his eyes to keep the threatening tears at bay. "I won't, Brian. I promise, I won't. I swear, I promise I won't leave you, never again."

Brian let out a sigh, trembling and long, a cathartic expelling of air, of all the horrible things inside. Justin held him in his arms, felt his lover's shaking gradually lessen, until it was the simple shudders of dying sobs. They curled together, entangled tighter than ever, so that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Justin waited, stroking Brian's hair softly until he relaxed and slept. Then he closed his eyes as well, knowing that tomorrow, together, they would begin to heal.


End file.
